Song of Silence
by Francesca Monterone
Summary: Berwald grows up as a selectively mute boy in an environment that isn't exactly tolerant of his difference. It is only when he meets sign language teacher Liz, her husband Roderich and their strange, chaotic group of friends that he begins to truly live and enjoy his life. Love, loss and coming of age in a world that is often unkind to those who are different.
1. My Secret Life

**Title: Song of Silence**

**Fandom:** Hetalia Axis Powers  
AU, human names only  
**Genre:** Romance, Friendship and a fair bit of Hurt & Comfort  
**Rating:** T, but might go up to M  
**Pairings:** Sweden/Finland, with side dishes of Denmark/Norway, Austria/Hungary, UK/US and Spain/Romano. Mentions of Estonia/Finland, Russia/Belarus, Germany/N. Italy, France/everything that moves (including, but not limited to UK/France, Sweden/France, Prussia/France), Austria/Prussia/Hungary (because, yes, they do have a complicated relationship) and a few others

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers or any of the characters except for a few OCs. I think this story is so far from the original fandom that I could probably have published it as an original fic if I had changed a few names. I chose not to, because the fandom is what ultimately inspired me to write it.

**Summary:**  
Berwald grows up as a selectively mute boy - selectively in this instance meaning mostly by his own choice, but they had to label him somehow - in an environment that isn't exactly tolerant of his difference. It is only when he meets sign language teacher Liz, her husband Roderich and their strange, chaotic group of friends that he begins to truly _live_ and enjoy his life. Growing up, he struggles to come to terms with his best friend Mathias' relationship with Lukas, the boy next door, and their subsequent departure after a fight with Mathias' parents. But when love finally hits Berwald, he begins to understand that sometimes, it doesn't matter what the others are saying and that there is no force in the world powerful enough to destroy the seed once it has been planted. Determined to win Tino's heart, he faces every kind of adversity – including annoying soon-to-be-ex-boyfriends, pride and prejudice, meddling friends, the reappearance of a childhood enemy, several accidents and an apparently infinite number of misunderstandings.

**Or, in Romano's words:** _Berwald was born, had a shitty childhood, then met Liz, who dragged him into this mess she calls her life. He made some friends, who did their very best to turn him into somebody who's just as crazy as they are. And then he met Tino. That was the day Berwald finally did go crazy. From that day on, winning Tino's heart became his only goal in life. And boy, I wish him luck, even though he's a sappy idiot, because that's going to be one hard piece of work. Of course, it would help tremendously if they weren't both as incredibly dense and clueless as they are…_

* * *

He is five years old when, for the first time, somebody notices that he is _different_.

Her name is Matilda, and she is his father's second wife. Well, actually she isn't the second wife yet, but she will be. Within the short span of a few months, she will have moved from being a friendly co-worker to being a lover, a housemate, a stepmother. He will even call her _mother_, to please her and Father.

He is such a pleasant child. Quiet, thoughtful, always anxious to please, and they love him for it.

And she is standing in front of him, tall and slender and beautiful, with her curly light brown hair (Mother's hair was blond and soft as feathers, he remembers), smiling down at him happily. "My, aren't you the cutest little thing!"

Actually, he isn't little. She's a tall woman, and he is only six years old, but the top of his head is already level with her solar plexus. He will be a giant one day, his father says. (Mother was small and delicate, with hands like a china doll).

He reaches out a hand. Politely, like he was taught to. " 'lo."

Her smile broadens. "Such a sweet boy!" She's in raptures. He views that as a promising sign. They'll get along just fine.

"Berwald, isn't it?" As if she didn't know. But he nods eagerly, just to please her, and Father, who's watching.

"I'm Matilda."

He knows that already, so he keeps looking at her expectantly.

"Are you a little shy? Don't worry, honey, that's alright. Now tell me, dear, are you already going to school?"

She should know that he doesn't, but will soon. Has Father not told her? He should tells her everything, because he _likes _her. People who like each other are supposed to always tell each other the truth.

He shakes his yet. "N't yet. Soon."

She looks a little perplexed, probably because he is so tall and she thought he was older, but then her smile is back. "Oh, you will love it! All the other children, you will make such good friends…" (It's a good thing she decided to become a librarian, not an astrologist, because she's dead wrong about that one). "Do you already have friends in the neighborhood, who will go to school with you?"

Berwald ponders this for a little while. It's a difficult question. Does he have friends in the neighborhood? There are other kids he plays with, or rather, tries to play with, but most are scared of him. Except Ivan, that is, but Ivan is a bully.

So no, he doesn't have friends. He has an enemy, though, does that count?

But then his face lightens up. Mathias. The boy who lives in the red house across the street. You could probably call Mathias his best friend, since they have been playing together, and fighting, and building snow castles and playing pranks since they could barely walk.

He smiles. "Th'r's one. M'thias. M' bes' friend."

"He means his best friend, "Father clarifies, and Berwald shoots him an annoyed look. He hates it when Father does that. Hates that Father is so obsessed with his pronunciation. ("You need to enunciate the words, son. E-nun-ci-ate. Say every letter.")

Matilda is frowning slightly. "You know," she says to Father, "there is something endearingly odd about that boy."

Berwald may not yet fully grasp the meaning of big words like _endearing_, but he is well able to recognize an insult, even a veiled one. It's all in the tone of voice, the inflexion, the way the words are drawn slowly or pushed into being with unnecessary force. He is not good at talking, yes.

But very good at listening.

* * *

Berwald is not as excited about school as most other children are, but once the year has begun, he finds that he actually quite likes it. He is a bright boy; he likes numbers and letters and pays attention to what the teacher is saying. He is well-behaved and quiet and he never talks in class - to be sure, he never talks when he is asked anything, either, but delivers a perfect written answer to any written question. The teachers are full of praise, and Father looks proud. They think he is just shy, overwhelmed by all the new faces and impressions. It is quite alright, they tell each other, the boy is an only child, and he has lost his mother at a very young age. He just needs some time to warm up, and then he'll be alright.

And Berwald, sitting quietly at the back of the classroom, watches them turn away with slight shrugs and apologetic smiles. They refuse to accept the simple truth and leave it as it is: Berwald doesn't like to talk. He has never liked to talk and never will. His silence is protection against the outside world, against embarrassment, against teasing, against revealing to much of himself, making himself vulnerable to others.

It is not a sullen or a stubborn silence. It just is. A part of him, like his eyes, his hands, his breath.

School is mostly an enjoyable experience. Berwald is a curious child, eager to learn, and he absorbs the knowledge presented to him in acceptably sized bites like a sponge, hungry for more.

There is, however, one thing that he refuses to do: he will not read aloud to the class. His first-grade teacher passes it off as shyness, and since she is a kind-hearted woman, she does not make much of an issue of it and simply leaves him alone. He will come around eventually. They always do.

First grade therefore is a ride without too many bumps. Berwald draws perfect letters into his blue notebook and adds and distracts with frighteningly intense concentration that makes Matilda laugh when she looks at him hunched at his desk with pursed lips and a tight frown. He plays endless, wordless games of hide and seek with Mathias, who isn't bothered by his silence as long as he's fun to play with.

He ignores Ivan's clumsy insults and rough shoves on the playground and the way home.

Ivan doesn't matter, he tells himself. He is just annoying, but he will go away eventually, if he realizes that he cannot provoke Berwald.

The year passes by, almost unnoticed.

His second-grade teacher is young and finds it difficult to cope with fifteen noisy children that can't sit still, so he's silently glad for the sixteenths who sits quietly at his desk in the corner. He decides not to bother Berwald, he has other problems to deal with. Namely Ivan, who is still a bully, and who is always picking on the smaller children.

Berwald doesn't like Ivan, in fact he loathes him, but for once he is grateful for the distraction. Since Berwald is the only one who comes close to his size and in his silence and stoicism does not provide a very satisfactory target, Ivan has taken to picking on the smaller children, particularly the wide-eyed first graders. Berwald watches in seething anger as he takes away their belongings, trips them on the stairs, taunts them to the brink of tears in the hallways. The teacher's seem helpless. They know that Ivan is a bully, but it is hard to catch him in the act.

Besides, he has parents who are either utterly oblivious to their son's character, or in denial about it, but in any case very willing to file complains about anyone who dares to chastise poor little Wanja.

He's not poor, though, Berwald thinks, or little. He's mean as a snake and a spoiled brat.

But apart from Ivan, life is still good. He plays soccer with Mathias and a few other boys - you don't need to talk much for that - and Matilda bakes them pies and cakes. Father works a lot an only seems to come home for dinner and sleep, but he seems happy with that arrangement, and if he is, so is Berwald.

In third grade, Berwald is taught by a man who shares his passion for numbers and thinks that interesting his pupils in math and the sciences at an early age is a lot more important than making them read. Literature is overrated, he says, and anyways, you need to understand nature, before you can write poetry about it, or even begin to comprehend it. Berwald likes him. He gets top marks for his science projects, and Matilda brings him books on plants and animals, and astronomy and geography. She calls him her little scientist, and Berwald snuggles up to her and listens to her explain why volcanoes spit fire and why there are earthquakes, and tsunami waves, and thunderstorms.

Ivan has formed a little gang of bullies, the terror of the playground. Berwald and Mathias take pains to avoid them were they can.

Fourth grade is hell on Earth. The new teacher has studied literature before deciding to change her profession to something a little more productive, and she has even written a couple of books themselves. (Berwald will read them in seventh grade. They are quite boring.) "Poetry is the soul of the universe", she says, and she assigns them each a poem, telling them to learn it by heart, so they can recite it in class the next day.

Recite a poem. In front of the whole class.

Berwald instantly feels nauseous.

Mathias pats his shoulder. "Come on," he says, "it's only a stupid poem. Everybody thinks it's boring. Don't worry about it."

But Berwald does, and rightly so.

The next day is a catastrophe. He stands in front of the class, mumbling and stumbling over the words, and blushing, and it's all god-awful. Why doesn't she make him stop? Why doesn't she realize that he can't do this, that he is butchering her beloved poetry? He bravely struggles through the first verse, but just as he is about to start the second, he notices the sounds.

Giggling. The girls are giggling.

He looks up. Anna hides her mouth behind her hand, and Ida is whispering to her twin Malin.

And Ivan is sneering at him.

Oh God, they are all laughing.

"Go on," the teacher says sternly, a frown on her face.

But Berwald can't go on. The words won't come across his lips, they are frozen inside him, and all he hears is that terrible whispering, and the laughter.

That night, he hides beneath his pillow and cries until he falls asleep, and nobody is there to comfort him, because nobody understands. They all think it's _funny_.

The next day is even worse. Berwald is standing in a corner of the yard, trying very hard to ignore Ivan, who is teasing him, and mocking him, and imitating him. The other boys, those that are secretly afraid of him, and those who admire him, because he is big, and burly and ruthless, are standing around him, laughing. They are pointing at Berwald, imitating his slow, stumbling speech, the broken words, missing vowels.

It's only the first of a long row of similar days of purgatory.

Berwald tries to ignore them, tries to fight back with words, but they slip away, and then Mathias is there, shouting insults at Ivan at the top of his voice, standing up for him, but it won't help. Berwald tells a teacher, tells his father, but Father is too preoccupied with his work to care about his son's petty problems, and all the teacher does is to tell Ivan to stop, which of course, he doesn't.

And then one day, Berwald can take no more, and when Ivan continues to taunt him, he throws himself at the bully, fists first, with a shriek of helpless rage. They hit the ground, brawling and boxing, and kicking. Berwald breaks Ivan's nose and loses two teeth in return, and it takes three teachers to break them up.

They are sent to the principal's office, their parents are called in (Father looks annoyed, and Matilda looks frightened, and Ivan's mother isn't there and his father merely looks bored). Matilda drives Berwald to the doctor, who fixes his teeth (not to worry, those were two of the five remaining milk teeth, and they were due to fall out anyways), then she drives him home, and later, after Father has sat next to him on the bed, telling him in a calm, stern voice how disappointed he is, she sneaks upstairs and gives him ice cream for his swollen lip.

Berwald turns his face away, tears welling up in his eyes. He can't take her kindness now, he is so ashamed.

That night, when the moon shines bright through a gap between the curtains, and his swollen lip throbs, and the taunts still ring loudly in his ears, Berwald reaches a decision.

It has to stop here, and there is only one way out:

He won't ever speak again.

* * *

"Selective mutism," the therapist says. "Not too uncommon, really. Has he been under a lot of stress lately?" (Matilda nods loyally.)

The therapist nods, too. "I wouldn't worry too much. At his age, it's likely just a phase that he'll outgrow soon enough, especially since he appears to be perfectly healthy otherwise. Just give him some time."

They do. They give him two weeks. (Berwald doesn't speak)

They give him three months. (Still, not a word uttered.)

They give him half a year. (No talking)

"That's it!" Father says, exasperated. "It's that school. It's not a healthy learning environment for him. That terrible Russian kid, always upsetting him and not letting him concentrate on his classes. I'll have him transferred to another school."

Berwald remains silent. He likes the new school well enough (there's no Ivan, at least), but still refuses to speak. By now he has come to the conviction that life is so much easier when people don't know about his _problem_. As long as they think that he is unable to speak, that he is mute, they accept him the way he is. Most soon lose interest, and that, in his opinion, is a lot better than hearing them laugh at him, or whisper behind his back.

Matilda explains to the teachers that her stepson is _special_. She seems a little embarrassed. Most of the teachers look puzzled at first, but quickly adjust. They can see that he's listening to them, and paying attention and that he always does his homework and never interrupts class, so they shrug it off.

"Strange kid," they say, "but he seems nice enough, and he's quite smart."

He makes it through fifth and sixth and seventh grade without much trouble. He doesn't have any friends at school, but he still spends time with Mathias, who doesn't care if he talks, as long as they can play soccer, and prank the prissy neighbor next door. By now, Berwald is taller than most of his teachers, and growing.

Matilda takes him to a specialist, who says that there's nothing wrong with him and that he simply is an exceptionally tall fourteen-year old, a freak of nature, but nothing to worry about.

Tall and silent. Most of the other children fear him. Except the very small ones. A new family moves into the house next to the red one where Mathias lives, a family with two sons, and one of them is a fair haired little boy, four, maybe five years old. _Bjarni_, they call him, and the name fits him, Berwald decides, because somehow it sounds cute, and he certainly is.

But then, Berwald isn't exactly objective when it comes to the little guy, since Bjarni has apparently decided that every small, blond boy needs a big, silent protector and is following Berwald around whenever he can. They make an odd couple, and Mathias jokes about it with Lukas, who is Bjarni's older brother. But that is okay, because those are friendly jokes, not malicious ones.

Lukas and Mathias talk a lot. About soccer, school, friends, movies. Sometimes about girls, but more in the _'they are so silly, we will never understand them'_-sort of way. Berwald mostly listens.

"Have you heard?" Mathias says, dropping down on the grass next to him. "Ivan's been kicked out of school after he stuck another boy's head into a toilet and almost drowned him. Talk is, he's attending a private school now. I guess his parents have the money."

Berwald slowly shakes his head. No, he had not heard about that. But it does not surprise him at all.


	2. Night Comes On

Ninth grade. Berwald turns sixteen, and there is a girl he likes, a girl with long, blond hair (like Mother's), a girl named Natalya, the perfect name, for a perfect creature… that is, until he finds out that she is actually Ivan's girl.

Ivan! The scourge of his childhood, the one who caused him such pain and humiliation! And Ivan now has this wonderful, this stunning, this perfect girl by his side, and he may do with her whatever he pleases, because she is totally besotted.

She walks up to him, in her red high heels, her hips swaying gently, seductively, her wonderful hair rippling like a golden waterfall. She leans across his shoulder (he is sitting with his friends, playing cards, it is a sunny summer day at the park) and whispers to him, and he laughs, loud and booming, and calls her his sister.

She is not, and Berwald can tell from the way she puts her arms around his neck. It is probably just a shared joke.

A joke _he_ will never share with her.

Berwald closes his eyes and walks away, feeling betrayed.

Natalya never looked at him.

He has never even existed to her, he is just a silent shadow.

After that, Berwald stops looking at girls. There would be no point, knowing that they could never see him as anything else than an odd, silent lump of a human being, brilliant in class but clumsy in anything else.

Life turns a darker shade that day.

* * *

Mathias doesn't want to play soccer anymore. He has grown silent and brooding, almost as silent as Berwald, which is worrying, because Mathias has never been able to keep his mouth shut; he has always been loud, talkative, extroverted. Now he sits in his bedroom for hours, staring at the wall, sighing.

He drinks too much (Berwald finds), but then they all do, sometimes, because they are boys, and boys have to test their boundaries, and sometimes Mathias does stupid things when he's drunk, like walking on rooftops or initiating a fight in a bar with three guys who are bigger than him (luckily, Berwald is there to scare them off).

"What's the matter with you?" Berwald writes on a piece of paper, as they are trying to learn for a physics exam, and Mathias is only staring out of the window.

But Mathias shakes his head.

He doesn't want to tell, or maybe he can't.

It is Bjarni who finally comes out with the truth, because you can't hide anything from children, and Mathias should have known that. (So should Lukas.)

Bjarni is now seven years old, and bright as a button, and he has absolutely no sense of propriety, nor does he understand the meaning of the word _'privacy'_.

"Come!" He pulls at Berwald's hand, giggling. "I'll show you something! But be quiet on the steps, or they'll hear us."

Berwald follows him, thinking that this is another one of his little friend's childish games and smiling, because Bjarni can always brighten up his day with a silly prank or a pretend fight against the monsters in the attic.

Today, there are no monsters in the attic, no dragons or wizards or evil knights.

There's just a closed door, an old wooden door that is bolted from within, but it has many creaks and there's a piece missing from the side, and if you're careful, you can peer into the room behind the door through the crack.

Bjarni giggles and mouths a "Shush!" that is completely unnecessary, because Berwald hasn't spoken a word in _years_. Berwald decides to humor him, because really, he can't deny the kid anything, and there's probably just an empty room behind that door, filled with Bjarni's vivid imagination.

He bends down and peers through the crack; it's terribly uncomfortable, and at first he sees nothing but a sparsely furnished room, battered old furniture, a few wooden boxes, shelves filled with glasses of marmalade and pickles. But over by the window, there's an old sofa, its cover dusty and moth-eaten, a faded rusty color that once was red. And shimmering brightly against that rusty-red color is a shock of blond hair; there's a boy lying on that sofa, a young man, really, lying on his back like a fallen angel that has lost its wings, and another one on top of him, making love to him.

Berwald spins around, pulling Bjarni away from the door, actually covering the little boy's eyes with his hand for a moment, but of course it's too late, and Bjarni giggles impishly, and breaks free, racing down the battered old stairs.

Berwald follows him, slowly, trying to process what he has just seen.

So Mathias and Lukas…?

He probably shouldn't be so surprised, there have been _hints_. Plenty of them, actually. And he doesn't think it's wrong, because Mathias is still his best friend, and he likes Lukas, too, and anyway, it isn't his place to judge, but… it makes him feel even lonelier, seeing them together.

After his fiasco with Natalya, he feels certain that nobody is ever going to love him, nobody but Matilda and Bjarni, and they don't love him _that_ way.

But Berwald wants to be loved _that way_, entirely, exclusively, with passion and loyalty and all those happily-ever-afters that the people in the books and the movies get; he wants to be held at night, and he wants somebody to hold in his arms, to cherish, to protect, somebody who understands that words aren't everything.

* * *

But a few days later, when Mathias knocks at his door, looking careworn and disheveled and terribly unhappy, and his eyes are red as if he has been crying, he thinks that maybe, being alone isn't so bad after all. (Mathias never cries. He always laughs. One day, when they were little, Berwald got angry and threw a mud-pie at him, right at his face, and Mathias was still laughing through the mud dripping off his face.)

At least when you're alone, you don't have anything to lose.

Berwald looks at Mathias questioningly, because really, he shouldn't look like this. If anything, he should be happy.

Mathias sighs. "I'm sorry, Berwald, I know it's late, but… look, I'm leaving, and I wanted you to know. So you don't worry."

Berwald frowns. Mathias is leaving? Since when is he living? And why? And for how long?

His questions must show on his face, because Mathias answers them all, speaking quietly, rapidly, the words rushing out of his mouth like a flock of upset birds.

"It's my parents. They saw me and Lukas, and boy, they were so pissed! They told me it had to stop, and Dad was screaming at me, and Mum was almost crying, all hysterical and everything… it got so noisy, I think all the neighbors must have heard us. And they went straight to see Lukas' parents and tell them about it, telling how depraved their son was, and that he had corrupted me, and that we were both going to burn in hell and so on. Lukas' Dad tried to calm them, but actually, he didn't look all that surprised, so I'm guessing he knew all along, although it seems he isn't all that happy about it. But anyway, after that, it got even worse. They haven't spoken to me in days, and if they did, it was only to shower me with accusations, and tell me that I must cleanse myself of those sins, and that I could never see him again…" He paused, looking lost, and young and hopeless. "But I can't! Berwald, I can't, he's _everything_ to me. I can't let them… they are my parents, but _I love him!_ And I know it isn't wrong, and that they are just a pair of old-fashioned bigots, and…" He shrugged helplessly and ran a hand through his already tussled hair. "We're going away," he confessed. "Lukas told his Mum, and she promised not to tell anyone. She didn't like it, but I think she understands… better than the rest of them, at least. And I had to tell you, because you're my best friend, and…"

Berwald swallows hard, then pulls Mathias into a bear hug. Of course he understands. Because Mathias is right, they are best friends, and they have known each other for such a long time. But he is upset about this, upset about Mathias going away, and about the way his parents reacted. It's not that bad, is it? So Mathias likes other boys, but that can't be such a big problem, can it?

He knows that Mathias' parents are conservative, and that they go to church a lot, and believe in what's written in the bible, but he never realized it was that bad. His heart breaks for Mathias and Lukas; this is terrible. They shouldn't be treated like this, just because they're different. And does it really make them different? They are still the two kind, laughing boys they were before, aren't they? The ones who like stupid pranks, and sports, and pizza, and apparently each other, but is that wrong?

He shakes his head. No. It's unfair.

He wants to tell Mathias, tell him how he feels and that he supports them and that his parents are jerks, but the words just won't come out. Luckily Mathias seems to understand anyway. He nods.

"I'll call you to let you know where we are."

Berwald nods, too. He feels terrible.

"Oh…" Mathias has already begun to turn around, but now he stops, mid-movement. "There's something else. Lukas asked me to ask you to look after his brother a bit? He says that Bjarni won't understand, and that he'll need a friend. Could you do that?"

Berwald nods again, emphatically. Yes, of course he will look after Bjarni. Poor little guy, Lukas is right, he won't understand. And besides, Berwald needs a friend, too, now that Mathias is leaving him.

Mathias looks relieved. "Thank you," he says, before turning around.

Berwald stares at his retreating form, wanting to cry because the world is a bleak place without Mathias.

* * *

Matilda and Father have apparently resigned themselves to the fact that he won't talk again anytime soon. (It only took them six years to reach that conclusion.)

A few days after the news of Mathias and Lukas running away has been up and down the street, discussed heatedly by all the neighbors and visitors, Matilda takes him to a language school some blocks away. Berwald looks at her in confusion. He already speaks English and a smattering of Spanish and German – well, speaks isn't exactly the right word, but he understands and his writing is pretty decent. Why would she think that he wanted or needed to learn another language?

But when they are shown into a bright, sunny office, it all becomes clear.

There's a woman behind the desk, a slender, dark-eyed, smiling woman wearing skin-tight jeans and a man's leather jacket.

"I'm Elizaveta, but you may call me Liz, it's easier," she says, carefully enunciating the words. Berwald watches her full red lips, transfixed. (She's hot, and he _is _a seventeen year old boy after all.) Then she begins to move her hands, though, and he is distracted by those strange, elegant movements. It almost looks as her slender fingers were dancing through the air.

Sign language. Now he understands.

Elizaveta – Liz – smiles again. "I'm a teacher," she says simply. "If you want me to, I can teach you to express yourself better. Matilda tells me that you already use lots of signs and gestures to communicate, but maybe I can help you with the fine tuning."

Does he want her to teach him…? Berwald considers it for a moment. Sure, it would be neat to understand sign language and be able to use it himself. He doesn't know anyone who knows it, but maybe he could teach Matilda and Bjarni some, that would be pretty cool. And maybe people who are actually truly mute will show a bit more tolerance towards him than the ones who aren't.

So he shrugs his shoulders and then nods. Sure, why not. With Mathias gone, he's got too much free time on his hands anyway.

Sign language, he quickly learns, is unlike English and Spanish and German. It's unlike any spoken language, even though there are some similarities (such as a surprising amount of vocabulary). First of all, there's not one single language, not really.

There's dozens of them. Hundreds. Maybe even more.

He stares at Liz helplessly when she tells him, and she laughs. "You don't have to learn them all at once," she says, "and anyway, you can't learn them all. We'll start with the basics of one of the common ones, and then go from there. It would require a lifetime of study to understand everything, and even then you probably won't. I grew up using sign language, because my mother was deaf, and I have studied it in school and taught it for years, and I still don't understand everything people are telling me. Not even people from my own country, mind you, and much less the foreigners. But that's okay. It makes life interesting."

Actually, it sounds pretty stressful to Berwald.

He has to admit, though, that he likes the lessons. Part of that is due to his new teacher's charm, to the way her hair swishes when she moves, to her smile and the sweet smell of her perfume; but Berwald actually enjoys learning the language, too. It's not easy, but it's interesting and sometimes even fun.

Matilda encourages him, taking some lessons herself, and now she and Berwald can talk behind Father's back (which annoys him to no end, and secretly pleases Berwald).

Learning sign language also gives him something to do while he's waiting for Mathias to come back. Even though he knows it's unlikely, Berwald still hasn't given up all hope. Surely Mathias' parents love him and must see that they were wrong to cast him out.

But Mathias doesn't come back. He calls a couple of times, to tell Berwald that he is well and that there's no need to worry, but Berwald worries anyway, and he feels lonely. Now, there's only Bjarni. Bjarni and lessons with Liz.

* * *

_A few notes on this chapter: First of all, let me say that I am thrilled so many of you read, reviewed and favorited this story already. Thank you so much for your feedback. I hope it'll live up to your expectations.  
Secondly, please note that I do not know sign language myself, nor do I know anyone who knows it. All my research was therefore theoretical and some things might not be entirely accurate. If you know better and/or if something strikes you as odd, please tell me. I'll be happy to learn more about this._

_Also, for those of you who would like to keep track of the countries:  
Mathias - Denmark  
Lukas - Norway  
Bjarni - Iceland  
Natalya - Belarus_

_And, last but not least: Painting Politics and Poland rightly pointed out that if Berwald was going to school in the United States or in Germany, for example, he would be 14 or 15 years old. However, in Sweden, school attendance is compulsory for all children aged 7-16. Children can already be enrolled at age 6, but given Berwald's difficulties, I think it's safe to assume that his parents waited until he was seven. Which actually made me change his age at the beginning of chapter one to 6, so thank you for that comment. Anyway, assuming that Berwald's birthday is somewhere in the middle of the school year, like mine, he would turn 16 in 9th grade._


	3. Take This Longing

One day after class, Liz hands him a bright yellow leaflet. Berwald looks at her curiously.

"Ask me," she dares him, grinning.

Berwald rolls his eyes. Of course. Always the teacher.

_What is that?_ he signs, and she compliments him, like she always does.

_An invitation, _she replies. Her movements are slow and her face very expressive, making sure that he will be able to follow. Understanding sign language, Berwald has learned, is about more than making gestures with your hands. It's about watching the other person's mimic, their lips, eyes, body posture. You are talking with your whole body, Liz has told him, not just your hands. Everybody does it, even when they speak aloud. People actually do it when they talk on the phone, too. It's funny to watch.

_An invitation to a concert. My husband and some of my friends are playing._

Berwald stares at her. Her husband? Liz is married? Somehow, he has never thought about that, but of course it makes sense, because she is a beautiful woman and kind, and at least ten years older than him, so why would she not have a husband? A husband who hopefully loves her and cherishes her and makes her smile a lot. Maybe they even have children.

Actually, he has to ask about that. _Do you have children?_ he asks, a little proud that he can get it right on the first try.

Liz raises a finger. _You are nosy! No, I don't have children. At least none of my own._

He is not sure if he has gotten that last one right, but decides to leave it at that. There is a shadow on her face. Regret, Berwald thinks. Maybe Liz has been trying to have a child with her husband, and it hasn't happened yet. Better to leave the subject untouched for now.

_Will you come?_ she asks.

Berwald looks at the date and shrugs. Sure, why not?

_Yes._

Her smile is radiant. _You can bring Matilda, too, if you like._

* * *

Matilda is going to a friend's birthday party, but she hopes he will have a good time and tells him to enjoy himself. "I like Liz," she says.

_Me, too_, Berwald signs, and she smiles, pleased with herself, because she understands him.

Berwald has never been to a classical concert before, and that's what this is, so he's a little unsure what to wear. He has only ever seen Liz in jeans, though, so he figures that a pair of black jeans and a clean white shirt will be okay.

The concert is held at a large hall downtown, all shiny glass and polished wood, and there are lots of people bustling in and out the doors, and standing around in little groups, and to his delight and surprise he notices that some of them are using sign language.

Although, if some of them are deaf, it seems a bit odd that they should be going to a concert.

Shrugging, Berwald turns to look for Liz, and when he finds her, he barely recognizes her, because she is wearing a little black dress, and boy, she looks different. (And perfect. And gorgeous. And stunning…. and he seriously needs to get those images out of his head, because her husband is here somewhere.)

"Berwald!" She calls out, rushing to meet him. _You are here! I am so happy to see you!_

Berwald grins stupidly, because she has wrapped him around her little finger completely.

A man steps to her side, a slender, handsome man wearing a black suit. "One of your students?" He asks. "The one you told me about?"

"Yes!" She beams at him. "Honey, I want you to meet Berwald. Berwald, this is my husband. His name is Roderich, and you won't be able to pronounce it right, so don't even bother. Just use the sign – like this." She shows him with her left hand, the other is resting on his shoulder.

Actually, it doesn't look like a name to Berwald, but then, she is the teacher. She must have noticed his skeptic look, though, because her grin breaks through.

"It actually means _'puppy' _in Hungarian sign language, but I use it for him."

She calls her husband _'puppy'_? Just when he thought things couldn't get any weirder…

Roderich looks a little flustered, but bravely extends a hand to greet Berwald. Berwald takes it and shakes it firmly. After all, they are men, never mind the embarrassing nicknames that women sometimes come up with.

Liz pinches Roderich's cheek, squealing something that sounds suspiciously like an insult wrapped up into an endearment and thereby ruins the attempt to preserve his dignity.

"I really must leave," Roderich says and turns on his heel, fleeing inside.

Liz grins.

_Evil_, Berwald says.

_Who, me?_ She looks at him, dark eyes wide with innocence. _Come and meet my friends. Some of them are playing tonight._

She takes him by the hand and leads him towards a group of people. Some of them are laughing out loud, and some of them in silence. There's a sun burnt, broad-chested man, who practically exudes good humor like a flower spreads its smell, his green eyes all smiles and mischief. Next to him is a pair of young men only a few years older than Berwald, who look so similar that they just have to be brothers. There's another man, small and wiry, older than the rest of them, with a bit of grey in his dark hair, smiling. Next to him is an incredibly handsome blonde, who appears to have lost his shirt somewhere along the way (or maybe he never put one on) and another man and a girl, who are obviously related and talking rapidly and animatedly in sign language.

Liz introduces them – Antonio (Prince Charming with the green eyes), and Lovino and Feliciano (the brothers), Viktor (the older guy), and Francis (the handsome one), and finally Vash and Lilli. The latter gives a little wave and a thumbs up when Liz tells her that he is learning sign language.

_I was born deaf_, she signs, and Berwald has to concentrate really hard, because she's going too fast. _My brother was not, but he learned, so he can speak to me. He's really good at it!_

She smiles up at her brother – her big brother – lovingly.

_That's nice_, Berwald replies politely.

The blond man is signing, too, but even though Berwald tries very hard, he just doesn't get what he's saying. He looks at Liz for help.

_Don't confuse him – _a something he doesn't understand, but it's probably the blond guy's name (or a nickname). _He is still learning. Don't worry, Berwald. Francis _– that's his name, isn't it? – _is French, and he was using some French and quite a few non-standard things on you. But knowing him, you probably wouldn't want to know what he said anyway._

At that, Francis throws back his head in silent laughter, and Berwald thinks that it's a good thing he isn't into guys, because otherwise he might fall for this one, and he has the distinct feeling that that would end badly.

_What happened to your shirt? _He asks pointedly, just to show Francis that he's not stupid and well able to express himself.

_Someone - _Francis sends a glare in direction of one of the brothers - _spilled coffee on it._

_I said sorry!_ Feliciano (or was it Lovino?) protests.

_Whatever. _Not a gesture Liz taught Berwald, but it is easy to get the meaning of that one.

_Since when do you mind running around half-naked, anyway? _Liz interjects. _You are a _(please insert an insult she hasn't taught me yet and probably never will here, Berwald thinks).

"I feel left out," Viktor complains, "can you translate?"

"Oh, Liz was just insulting Francis," Antonio says, grinning. He has a slight accent, it sounds endearing.

_He was attempting to flirt with the new kid_, one of the brothers adds. _Doesn't work, though, when they don't understand you, Francis. _

Berwald stares at Francis suspiciously. Attempting to flirt with him…? Nobody has ever attempted to flirt with him before, not that he can remember.

Francis winks and smiles, and makes a gesture that probably means something decidedly inappropriate.

"You need to go, Feli," Liz says to the other brother.

"Oh. Right!" He beams brightly, then turns to jog towards the building.

_Wait. Isn't he mute, too?_ Berwald asks Liz. Somehow he thought that the two boys looked like twins, and if one was mute then didn't the other…?

"Hah, we all wish he were, sometimes!" Antonio says cheerfully. "But Feli is fluent in half a dozen languages, including several sign languages."

_Unfortunately_, the other brother adds, rolling his eyes. In addition to knowing sign language, Lovino is apparently able to read lips, or maybe he just deduced the meaning of the words from the look on Antonio's face. They seem close, and Mathias can usually guess what Berwald is trying to tell him without actually saying it, so why shouldn't Lovino be able to do that to?

_Not nice, _Lilli scolds him, and then adds some more signs that Berwald doesn't understand.

_Let's go inside_, Liz suggests and repeats it aloud for Viktor, who nods. "Your arm, my dear."

She giggles. "Why, isn't he a gentleman?"

"Speaking of which," Antonio says, "shouldn't Arthur be here, too?"

"He took Alfred and Matthew away for the weekend. To London," Liz replies, and Antonio whistles.

"Ah, I envy them! So Arthur must be serious about our dear Alfred, huh? Because I'm guessing he doesn't do this to impress Matthew…"

"Nah, he's just trying to charm the little brother, too, while he's courting the elder. Might get useful in the future," Liz replies cheerfully. Victor snorts, and Francis throws something in that Berwald doesn't catch, but he can deduce the meaning, judging from the fact that Liz turns towards the Frenchman, signing _Pig!_

Berwald has no idea who Arthur and Alfred and Matthew are, but he has just learned something useful about Elizaveta – apparently, she has no problem with gay people. She'd probably like Mathias and Lukas, too, if she has gay friends. Berwald decides to tell her about them during their next lesson, because it would really be nice to be able to share his worries with somebody, and say how much he misses his best friend.

They find their seats, and Berwald gets to sit between Liz and Lilli.

Francis is leafing through the program and suddenly raises his eyebrows, pointing at a name. Berwald reads it over the top of Lilli's head.

_Eduard von Bock._

_Oh yes, he is playing, _Liz confirms.

_Puppy lets him play? _Francis enquires, looking incredulous. _He will try to steal all the…_

… _applause_, Berwald deduces, but supposes that in this context, it's supposed to mean glory. Then he remembers that _'puppy' _is Liz-speak for Roderich.

_Impossible_, Liz replies, looking confident in her husband's abilities.

_Who is he?_ Berwald asks, pointing at the name.

An unfamiliar gesture – later he will learn that it means _Estonia _and is Liz-speak for Eduard, who was born in Tallinn, then: _… is Puppy's student. He teaches him to play the piano._

_Oh. Is he any good? _Berwald has no idea what that would mean, actually, since no one in his family plays an instrument.

_He is very good, _Liz confirms, _but Puppy _(he will have to start thinking _'Roderich'_ instead, seriously. He could never look the man in the eye thinking _'Puppy'_) _is better. He is the best._

At first he thinks it's an endearing conjugal exaggeration, but when Roderich starts to play, he realizes that Liz is probably right. He doesn't know much about music, but this is divine. It makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because it is so beautiful.

Next to him, Lilli is in silent raptures, her pale little face glowing with excitement.

Roderich finishes the piece (much too soon), bows elegantly, and makes way for a thin, serious looking boy wearing glasses and an ill-matching brown suit that is god-ugly. And it turns out that Liz was right about him too, because he's good, though not as good as Roderich.

There's a brief intermission, during which Berwald drinks a glass of orange juice and tries to understand what Lilli is telling him (something about the music, he believes, though he doesn't understand much). Afterwards, a girl with long, blond plaits comes on stage, playing a cello piece, and then Roderich is back, this time in company of Feliciano, who opens his mouth and sings like a songbird, beautifully, cheerfully, in a strange melodious language that Antonio says is Italian.

Berwald notices that Lovino is looking at his brother intently, and that there's a smile on his face, and he wonders about that.

_Can I ask you something? _He carefully asks afterwards.

Lovino shrugs.

_You looked happy when your brother was singing, but you can't hear him, can you?_

Lovino frowns, but apparently decides to cut Berwald some slack, since he's new at this. _No, but I can see him. And that is enough._

Berwald considers that statement, and somehow, it makes sense. It seems that Lovino loves his brother very much, and Feliciano looked truly happy up there on the stage. So maybe that really is enough.

_Is he a singer?_

Lovino shakes his head. _Only in the shower._

Berwald looks puzzled. _Sorry?_

_Only in the shower, _Lovino repeats, grinning. _Not really. He is an interpreter._

So that's why Feliciano knows all those languages. But he must be a bit older than Berwald thought.

_How old are you?_ He asks.

_You are lucky I'm not a girl, _Lovino comments, _I am 27. My brother is 26._

_He looks… young_, is all Berwald can say, _you, too. _

_Healthy living_, Lovino replies, but he looks pleased.

Antonio, who has just stepped closer and watched the last bit of their exchange, snorts. "Yeah, right. You especially, _mi vida_."

Lovino sticks out his tongue at him.

Berwald decides that he likes them.

* * *

_Did you like the concert? _Liz asks him at the beginning of their next lesson.

He nods emphatically. _Very much._

She smiles. _I am glad. Did you like my friends?_

_They are nice._ Except Francis, maybe. He isn't yet sure about Francis, there's something creepy about the shirtless blonde.

_I wish I had friends_, he suddenly says, because just then, he feels terribly lonely.

Liz looks upset. _But you do have friends_, she protests, _I am your friend, and you always tell me about that boy in the neighborhood – Bjarni? And his brother Lukas, and Mathias._

_You are my teacher_, he replies, _and Mathias is away… gone. Mathias is gone. And Lukas._

_Gone? _She asks, and he tells her, in struggling to find the gestures that can explain what happens, but there are so many missing, so many that he doesn't know yet.

_Mathias kissed Lukas. And his parents… angry. They argued. He left. With Lukas._

Liz looks taken aback at first, but then her dark eyes narrow dangerously. "Your friend is gay, and that's why they drove him away, is that what you're saying? What kind of parents are they?! You know, that's exactly the sort of thing that happened with Lovino's and Feli's family, when their grandfather found out about Lovino and Antonio. Took us a while to knock some sense into him, their grandmother and me. Lovino was terribly upset, and Feli too, but you should have seen Penelope – that's their grandmother! I think her husband is still scared of her, up to this day." She grinned. "But in the end, it all turned out well. Roma grudgingly admitted that Antonio isn't such a bad guy, and that he makes great paella, and now they can talk civilly and argue about soccer and politics to their hearts content. Though to be fair, Roma did have a point back then, because Lovino was barely eighteen, and Antonio was twenty-five, so I suppose he was a bit worried…"

Which means that Antonio and Lovino are not only a couple, but that they have also been together for about nine years. And that is pretty amazing, once you think about it.

Berwald wishes with all his heart that maybe, Mathias' family will come around, too, and that he and Lukas can be happy together.

_Why do people get angry about that? _He asks. _It is not wrong._

_No, it is not_, Liz replies, her dark eyes burning bright, _love is always love; between men and women and women and women and men and men. It's all the same. And everybody should be allowed to be happy. I love Puppy _(_'Roderich' _he thinks, wincing)_, but I would love him, too, if he were a woman, and it would not matter. It would be the same._

_I feel sad without Mathias_, he says. He wants to say _'lonely'_, but doesn't know how to say it.

Liz reaches out her hand to ruffle his hair. (She has to reach high up.) _You will see him again_, she promises. _For now, why don't you come and have dinner with me and Roderich _(there, he's thought it!) _tonight?_

Berwald doesn't have the heart to say no to that invitation.

* * *

Liz and Roderich live in the most beautiful house he has ever seen, in the most beautiful neighborhood he has ever seen, surrounded by the most beautiful garden he has ever seen. Actually, it's not a garden; it's a park. He realizes with a jolt that his teacher has been keeping secrets from him – apparently, she and her husband are very well off. Though Berwald is willing to bet that the money comes from Roderich's side, because Liz just doesn't seem the type.

They greet him cordially, both of them, and he is shown around the house, which is even more magnificent inside.

Berwald takes it all in, the beauty of the building, the exquisite furniture, the smiling, happy couple, and he knows that this could never be _his_ life, but he is still jealous, because they have everything, and he has nothing.

Or maybe they don't have everything, because it suddenly occurs to Berwald that there's something missing. A house this size feels empty without children in it, at least one child. And Liz would make a great Mum, and if Roderich is anything like he imagines him to be, he would be a great father, too.

It's a sign of his social inadequacy that he asks them outright. (Some questions are not meant to be asked and he should have remembered the shadow on her face when he first mentioned children.)

_Why don't you have any children?_

To him, it's like asking _'hey, why don't you have a pet?'_, because having children is normal. His entire neighborhood consists of families, and there's always at least one child. Nearly all of his classmates have siblings. And somewhere deep down, Berwald is quite convinced that he will have children, too. One day. Children and a wife and a house and a job, like everybody else. Maybe even a dog.

Roderich looks shocked at the question (it's the first acknowledgement of the fact that he actually understands sign language, at least to a certain extent). Liz looks hurt, swallows hard, and tries to find the words. Berwald instantly feels bad, because he didn't want to upset her. It was just curiosity…

_We don't have children, because I can't_, Liz finally replies, and her face looks terribly sad and forlorn all of a sudden.

Roderich moves closer, putting an arm around her, but she shrugs it off angrily, walking away towards the dining room. "I'll see if dinner is ready."

There are tears in her voice.

Berwald looks at Roderich, his cheeks burning. Roderich looks back, his face unreadable. "That was the wrong question to ask," he finally says with a soft sigh.

_I'm sorry!_ Berwald signs.

So, so sorry.

Roderich nods. "You had no way of knowing about that."

Dinner is a splendid, but vaguely uncomfortable affair. Liz ignores the soup and stabs at the meat, but finally brightens up a bit when it's time for dessert, and the woman who has been serving them brings in a magnificent cake, proudly placing it in the middle of the table.

Liz looks across the table at her husband, and the smile is back on her face. "You made a cake?"

Roderich smiles, too, softly, gently. It makes him look younger and less stern. "This morning," he confirms. "I was waiting for Eduard to arrive, he was late again, and Lola wasn't using the kitchen, so…"

So on top of everything else, Liz' handsome, rich, talented husband knows how to bake cakes that look like they sprung from a magazine cover. Berwald is beginning to feel truly inadequate.

Liz leans across the table – carefully avoiding the cake – to kiss Roderich. It's not the kind of kiss Matilda gives Father when he comes back from work. Not that sort of chaste, affectionate kiss. This kiss is a _'shall I devour you or the cake first?'_- kind of kiss, and Berwald is staring outright, before he blushes and looks at the dishcloth.

And apparently, everything is alright again, because Liz is now cutting the cake and handing out plates, and laughing between two creamy bites.

After dinner, they move to the music room, and Roderich plays a few short pieces for them on the piano, Liz sitting close to him during one, and wandering through the room the rest of the time. Berwald feels a hot surge of affection towards them, and he is grateful for this invitation, but he also knows that he doesn't belong here. He excuses himself to go to the bathroom and stops in the hallway on his way back, when he hears them mention his name.

"… seems a nice enough boy," Roderich is just saying. "I suppose appearances can be deceiving, after all. He seems a little introverted, though."

"He's shy," Liz says, "and very lonely, I think. He doesn't have many friends, and he lost his mother when he was very young. The stepmother seems to care about him, but the father is a bit distant. I think it embarrasses him that his son doesn't talk."

"So he could speak…?" Roderich asks. "He just won't?"

"Apparently, he stopped talking when he was about ten. He had some sort of speech impediment, and the other children were always teasing him. You know that children can be very cruel."

"Oh yes," Roderich mutters darkly, "Gilbert taught me that at an early age."

"So, anyway, Berwald hasn't spoken in years, and I don't think he will anytime soon. But he's a quick learner and already has a good grasp of sign language."

"You should introduce him to the other kids at the center. He might find some friends there, and they are more tolerant, because they know what it's like to be different. Lilli seemed to like him well enough."

"Lilli is a little darling," Liz says, and he can almost hear her smile. "But you're right, I should do that. He might get along well with Matthew or Kiku. Maybe Toris and Raivis, too."

"I am always right," Roderich says, and she laughs. "Now you sound like Gilbert!"

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do! But I love you anyways."

Berwald wisely decides that this is probably a good time to silently excuse himself. He is sure they won't mind him sneaking away.

* * *

_Some more notes:_  
_All the chapter titles are titles of Leonard Cohen songs. I hope I don't run out of songs before I run out of chapters..._

_Also, I usually reply via PM to reviews, but here is one that I feel needs to be addressed publicly, since it is surprisingly ignorant (I'm not used to that from people who read fanfiction, and especially Hetalia fanfiction, regularly, so I was a bit surprised):_

_North American Ass Melon wrote: "Sweden's gay and will never be attracted to a woman"_  
_To which I can only reply - darling, so am I, and it hasn't kept me from developing crushes on several boys and dating two of them while I was a teenager. We may be born gay, but that doesn't mean that we are all born knowing about it and most of us grow up in an environment where it's considered normal to be attracted to, date, have sex with and marry members of the opposite sex. I have a lot of gay friends and nearly all of them have been with members of the opposite sex before coming out as gay. You have to try tomate juice before realizing you don't like it, I guess._


	4. Why Don't You Try

The school year comes to an end, and Berwald realizes with a jolt of surprise that the next one will be his last. He also realizes that he has no idea what he wants to do after school.

"Go to college," his father says, as if it's obvious.

"Become a carpenter," Matilda says, because he's good with his hands and he has built her a little garden house for her birthday, so she can store away her tools and the unused flower pots and the lawn chairs.

Father frowns, because in his opinion, the only work that matters is work that you do with your head, out of an office.

Berwald is silently glad that he hasn't to decide yet. He's got another year. And he has to get through the holidays first of all. The first holidays without Mathias, who still hasn't come back. Apparently, he and Lukas have found some sort of arrangement with their respective families that involves living with Mathias' grandparents (who are much more tolerant than his parents).

Without Bjarni, even, because he's visiting his grandparents.

Luckily, there is Liz, who says that the summer holidays are usually her busiest time of the entire year, because in addition to her job at the language school, she's doing volunteer work at a community center for people with speech and hearing impediments and their families. She teaches, she does counseling, she plays with the kids.

And she tells Berwald that he should come with her, because he might make friends there, and Liz thinks he really needs some. (Actually, Berwald thinks so, too.)

He feels a bit apprehensive when he accompanies her for the first time, but quickly realizes that he knows some of the people there already. There's Lilli, who comes running up to him, throwing her thin arms out, hugging him. Berwald looks down at her, puzzled. Usually, people don't hug him like that. They tend to be scared of him.

To his surprise, he also notices Feliciano, the one who sang at the concert. He isn't singing now. Instead, he's trying to teach two boys and a girl to make pasta sauce, and there's a dab of tomato juice on his cheek. He waves cheerfully at Berwald and Liz, then turns back to his pupils.

_Feliciano loves to cook_, Liz explains. _Runs in the family. Lovino and Antonio, too. They own a restaurant together. Can you cook?_

Berwald looks at her, and his bewildered expression clearly states _who, me?_ He shakes his head.

_You should learn it._

_But I'm a guy, Liz. I don't need to know how to cook_, he objects.

_And what makes you think that the girl you will be with one day will be able to cook?_ She asks sternly.

_Can't you cook?_ He asks in return.

_Sure. So can Roderich. That's not my point. What will you do when you end up with a girl who can't cook? Provided that it's a girl, that is._

_She will be a great cook_, Berwald says confidently, daring her to contradict him.

_Come, let me introduce you to a friend, and then he can tell you a bit about in-laws, who are terrible cooks_, Liz says, grinning. She leads him to another room, one that looks like a library, with rows of bookshelves and a few work desks. There's a group of teenage boys sitting in a corner, books and stacks of papers piled up in front of them, studying.

When they approach, the boys look up. Two of them are Asian, and the third has somewhat unruly blond hair and smiles at Liz shyly.

"Meet Yao and Kiku and Matthew," Liz says, so he will know what their names sound like, then she repeats them in sign language.

_Boys, this is Berwald. _(He has told her quite firmly that she's not allowed to call him any embarrassing nicknames.)

The boys greet him politely. Yao might be Berwald's own age; Kiku and Matthew are younger, fourteen or fifteen, maybe. Berwald suddenly remembers that he has heard Matthew's name before. Wait. Isn't he the one who has gone to London for the weekend? His life must be a lot more interesting that Berwald's, if that's the case. Berwald has never been out of the country before.

_What are you studying?_ He asks, trying to be polite. He is also trying his best not to look intimidating, because Matthew looks at him warily.

Kiku pulls a face. _Math. I don't like math._

_If you didn't spend so much time playing video games, you might be better at it, _Yao comments.

Kiku rolls his eyes. _But I like video games._

_We know_, Yao says.

_Matthew, is your brother here today?_ Liz asks.

Matthew shakes his head. _No. He's on a date with _(insert name or nickname, Berwald thinks, then deduces that it's probably _Arthur, _that is, if Matthew's brother doesn't change his boyfriends like other people change their pants.)_. Again. I wonder what they do all the time._

Kiku and Liz are grinning at him. _I don't_, Liz says, and poor Matthew blushes bright red. _Don't you like Arthur?_ She asks.

Matthew shrugs. _Sure, he's nice. But he's so… old. Older than my brother, I mean_, he quickly amends.

_He's also older than me, so it's alright_, Liz says, winking at him. _But he likes your brother very much, and I think he likes you, too._

_As long as he stays out of the kitchen, I don't mind him being around_, Matthew replies.

_See, I told you_, Liz says to Berwald. _Arthur is the world's most horrible cook._

_Really horrible_, Matthew confirms, shuddering.

* * *

On that first day, Liz also introduces them to some of the younger boys, who are playing soccer outside – Sadiq and Herakles, and little Alexis – and to Feliciano's three pupils. The scrawny redhead is Ian, the younger one Raivis, and the girl is named Maria. They share some of the food Feliciano and his assistants made (there appear to be immeasurable quantities of it) and then Lilli drags Berwald away to come and help her get a board game from the top shelf, and she insists that he has to play with her and Ian. Berwald keeps losing, probably because he understood only half of Lilli's explanation of the game, but somehow, it doesn't matter.

It's only when Vash comes to pick Lilli up and to drive her and a couple of other kids home that he realizes how fast the time has passed.

He is back the next day, and the one after that, and nearly every day of the entire week.

He helps Liz to sort the books in the library and arrange them in a more orderly fashion, he sits down with Kiku to tackle math problems, he plays with Lilli and lifts little Alexis up, so he can pluck cherries from the tree in the garden. He plays soccer with Herakles and Sadiq, who are forever fighting, and Matthew joins them. Sometimes, Feliciano is there, too, and he loves soccer. He's better at it than the lot of them, but tries to let them win, sometimes, especially when the younger boys are playing, too.

Wednesday afternoon, Roderich comes to give Lilli and Ian piano lessons on the battered old instrument upstairs, and he's infinitely patient with them, even though teaching deaf people to play the piano has to be a lot harder than teaching people who can hear what they're playing.

But Roderich says that Lilli and Ian are two of his favorite students, because they are willing to try over, and over, and over again, unlike Eduard, who quickly gets upset, when he strikes a wrong chord. Eduard, by the way, is Raivis' older brother, and there's another brother called Toris. The two younger ones are deaf from birth, like Lilli, but Eduard isn't.

_He's the lucky one_, Toris says, frowning a little. _Actually, he's our half-brother. He has a different Dad than Raivis and me._

Like many of the children, Toris, Raivis and Lilli are being encouraged to speak aloud, because they're physically capable of it (and Berwald thinks that actually, it doesn't even sound that strange, no matter what people are saying), but they prefer to use sign language among themselves. Lilli sometimes sings with Feliciano when she is playing the piano, though, and Berwald thinks that it sounds nice.

Yao has not inherited his hearing impediment from his parents. _I got sick when I was about six years old_, he tells Berwald, _It was pretty bad. Mum even thought I would die. I got better again, but I couldn't hear anything anymore. It was pretty bad at first, but I learnt to deal with it._ He shrugs. _Could have been worse, I think. I could have died._

Kiku isn't deaf, but mute. He doesn't say why and it's probably something one should not ask. Berwald isn't sure whether that's better or worse than being deaf. In a way it's better, because Kiku can still hear everything that is spoken around him, and listen to music and so on, but he isn't able to speak, and that's just as bad, isn't it?

Actually, Berwald is beginning to feel pretty lucky, because he hasn't been born with a genetic defect, or suffered an accident or a terrible disease.

The greatest surprise comes when he learns that Matthew is neither deaf nor mute, and actually has very good hearing, which sometimes embarrasses him, because he hears things that he's not supposed to hear. (Such as Arthur telling his brother that he loves him.)

_Why do you use sign language, then?_ Berwald asks, completely taken aback.

Matthew shrugs. _I don't really like talking all that much. I never find the right words, somehow, and I talk very quietly, and people always complain that they don't understand. This is easier. And anyway, I wanted to learn because of Alfred. To make him feel better. He had an… accident, when we were younger. When I was very young, actually. I think I was four. He can't talk anymore. _Suddenly, he grins. _Actually, I wouldn't mind that too much, because he's very… talkative, but he's just as expressive in sign language, so that doesn't help much._

_Can you read lips, too?_ Berwald asks, fascinated by all of this.

Matthew shakes his head. _No, but that would be cool. Yao can, a little bit, and Toris is trying to learn it. Lovino can, though, and he's really good at it. Means that if you want to talk behind his back, you have to really stand behind him, because otherwise he'll read the words off your lips._

_Cool_, Berwald agrees. _He should be a spy._

_Maybe he is, _Matthew muses, his eyes twinkling. _He's very secretive sometimes. Especially about his recipes. Feliciano says he keeps them locked up in a safe._

_Is your brother really… you know, going out with Arthur?_

Matthew rolls his eyes. _Yes, and they are so embarrassing. Like, always kissing right in front of me._ He pulls a face.

_Oh,_ Berwald says.

* * *

Matilda thinks it's great that he is spending so much time at the center and eagerly offers her assistance for the annual garden party, baking cake and helping with decorations. (Berwald puts up lampions in the cherry tree, and almost sets himself on fire in the process.)

Matilda's chocolate and walnut cake is great, but unfortunately, Roderich has decided to show his support, too, and his cakes are infinitely more sophisticated. (There's three of them, and they taste heavenly. They look heavenly, too.) Apparently, Liz' husband is an angel descended from the skies to come and live among the mere mortals. He really makes other feel inadequate. Matilda instantly develops a crush on him, which embarrasses Roderich and amuses Liz and Berwald.

Antonio and Lovino are catering the rest of the food pro bono, and they have outdone themselves. (Berwald thinks that there must be people who would kill for a slice of Lovino's pizza.)

There's a loud, happy crowd assembled that afternoon, all the kids that Berwald has already met, and their families, and many more people that he doesn't know. He notices Francis, who is chatting with a pretty girl that looks completely bedazzled by his charm. (Poor girl.)

Then Matthew steps up to him, and behind him is his tall, muscular, grinning brother, who looks like he plays some sort of sport for a living (actually, he does, and it's rugby), and a shorter, older man with thick eyebrows and very green eyes beneath them.

_Alfred and Arthur_, Matthew explains, and yes, Berwald can see that there should be an 'and' between those two names, because they are always looking at each other, and their hands are constantly touching, and they seem so in love.

"Sickeningly sappy, I know" Matthew mutters, making sure that both of them will hear.

Alfred playfully boxes his chest – and almost sends his brother tumbling to the ground, because he is so much stronger. Arthur has the grace to look embarrassed, though only for a moment.

Francis, who has apparently grown bored with the pretty girl, moves up silently behind Arthur and wraps his arms around the shorter man's waist. (Berwald has already learnt not to let Francis get too close, because he's very touchy-feely.) Arthur gives a surprised yelp and jumps back, glaring at the Frenchman.

"Oh, it's you, Frog."

Francis pouts at that, because apparently, he understood the words, even without hearing them.

_Arthur calls him 'Frog', because French people apparently eat them_, Matthew explains. _He uses the sign, too. It's sort of rubbed off on Liz and some of the others._

Yes, Berwald can easily see that. A woman who calls her husband _'Puppy' _will have no qualms about calling somebody else a frog.

_We do so not eat frogs,_ Francis says, trying to look indignant, _at least not all of us._

_I could call you other things instead_, Arthur suggests darkly.

Francis laughs silently. _I love you, too, Arthur._

_I don't love you, Frog._

_Sure you do. You just won't admit it, because now you are with gorgeous Alfred. Hello, Alfred_, Francis says, turning to unleash the full force of his smile upon Alfred. _You could do so much better than him._ He negligently points at Arthur.

_No I couldn't_, Alfred replies, _he's perfect._

_Except for his cooking_, Matthew amends.

_Don't insult my cooking_, Arthur replies. _I'm a great cook!_

_No, my love, you are a horrible cook_, Alfred objects, smiling. _But it doesn't matter, because if I ever get hungry, I will call Feli, or Lovino, or Antonio. Or Roderich. Or Liz. All of my friends are good cooks, so you don't need to be._

"Alfred, why do you keep calling that poor man a puppy?" Arthur asks out loud, frowning.

Alfred shrugs. _That's what Liz taught me to call him. She's the teacher. She knows best._

_Besides, it fits him, _Francis says, thereby acknowledging that he, too, knows to read lips. _Such a cutie! It's a pity that Liz saw him first._

_You would break his heart, like everybody else's, _Matthew says.

_I haven't broken yours yet_, Francis replies, grinning. _Shall I try?_

_Hands off my little brother, you pervert! _Alfred warns. (Actually, the gesture he uses is a lot ruder than that, but Berwald decides to censor it. He has learned to do a lot of mental editing while learning sign language. Liz was right, it isn't just about the signs themselves.)

_You are no fun_, Francis complains.

_Go and annoy somebody else_, Arthur says.

* * *

When school starts again, Berwald is almost sad, because he won't be able to spend as much time with his new friends as he did during the holidays. On the other hand, though, he can still see them on weekends, and sometimes Matthew and Kiku, who don't live too far away, come by after school, so it's alright.

He gets a card from Mathias, informing him that having finished school early (Mathias has always been ahead of everyone else in class, and he has probably put in an extra effort to finish at the same time as Lukas, who's a year older), he and Lukas are leaving the country to go to Berlin and study there. Studying abroad has become so much easier with the European Union, and university exchange programs.

Berwald wonders if they will ever come back again, and Bjarni is crying, when he tells him. (Lukas' parents don't seem surprised. In fact, they have a rather knowing air about them.)

Time seems to fly, because Berwald is busy with school, and he finally has people to share his free hours with, and Liz says that if he continues to learn as fast as he does, he should be a sign language teacher himself. Berwald doesn't think he would be a good teacher, though. He's not patient enough.

_Nonsense_, Liz says, _you're really good with the kids._

And she's right, Berwald thinks proudly. The kids love him, all of them. They are all over him whenever he comes to the center, playing, talking, showing him stuff, like a crowd of eager, happy puppies wanting to be loved.

And he loves them, too, because they are the only ones who don't make him feel inadequate, who don't have a problem with his silence, or his clumsiness, or his size. (He's grown another two inches that fall.)

_But I like math Liz_, he says dubiously. _I like numbers and equations and physics, I like building stuff and finding out how things work._

He shows her one of his school projects. They are required to choose an art class or music, and Berwald doesn't have any musical talent at all, nor is he all that interested in photography or landscape painting, so he's chosen the drawing class. They were supposed to draw people, but Berwald doesn't have any real talent for that, he prefers to draw buildings. He likes how things appear on the paper like magic, how everything is set in perspective, how his calculations and measuring express themselves in a finished picture. The teacher looks at his drawings curiously, then says that if Berwald prefers to draw buildings, he should by all means do that, because he's surprisingly good at it.

He hands him a stack of books on architecture, and Berwald spends a few happy afternoons studying them.

For his project, he has chosen to draw up a building plan. It's a plan of his school, but not like it is now, but as it should be, ideally. Berwald has spent a lot of time there, and he can see a great many flaws in the construction of the building. Many of the doors aren't broad enough for the students rushing out at lunch time or when school ends, so people get jostled around and shoved out of the way. The hallways aren't wide enough for Ms. Berglund to pass through with the book cart when there are people standing around in front of the classrooms. Also, the bathrooms are abysmally small and badly isolated, so it gets really cold in there in winter. Besides, the school is in no way handicapped accessible, none of it. And plastering the schoolyard with flagstones was quite probably the worst idea any architect ever came up with. It keeps the school nurse pretty busy.

_Impressive!_ Liz says as she looks at his drawings and explanatory notes, then whistles to show her appreciation. A thoughtful look crosses her face. _I've just had an idea… would you mind if I showed those to a friend of mine?_

Berwald frowns. Would he mind? Probably not, so far he liked all of Liz' friends. But why would she want to do that?

_Why?_

_Do you remember Viktor? He was at the concert. He's an architect. And you told me that you're supposed to do a two-week internship to gain some work experience, so I thought you could do it with him. If you'd like to._

Berwald considers it. It sounds great.

_Sure._

Liz smiles. _I'll take good care of them_, she promises and puts the drawings back into the folder.

* * *

Viktor apparently likes Berwald's drawings, since he asks Liz to pass on the message that he's looking forward to having Berwald as an intern. Liz beams at him, when she tells him, and Berwald cannot help but grin happily.

Besides, seeing Liz smile like that still makes his knees go weak and his heart flutter uneasily. He's happy to learn that she seems to have that effect on everyone, though. Matthew confesses that she makes him blush more often than not, and Yao always gets that dreamy look in his eyes when he's speaking of her. And as for Roderich – well, he may be an angel, and a genius, and perfect in every way, but Liz regularly manages to reduce him to a lovesick teenager, complete with stuttering and that stupidly happy look on his face. And he's thirty-two years old, so that shows you how powerful she really is.

So yes, Liz is a powerful sorceress. But one of the best kind.

* * *

To Berwald's surprise, his father actually approves of his idea of doing an internship with Viktor, the architect.

"Architecture, huh?" He asks, as he looks at Berwald's drawings. "Well, why not? Your mother liked to draw, did you know that?"

He rarely mentions Mother, so Berwald listens eagerly.

Father smiles, which is rare. "She would be proud of you. It would make her happy to see that you have found something you're good at and you enjoy."

Berwald goes to bed happily that night.

Christmas passes quietly and somehow, there's more laughter and Christmas spirit in the air, than Berwald can remember in any of the years before. And more music. Feliciano, Lovino and Antonio all come to the center, spending a Saturday baking cookies with the children, and making little gingerbread houses that are too beautiful to eat. Roderich teaches Ian and Lilli to play Christmas Carols on the piano, and Lilli begins to sing, then Liz falls in, and Roderich joins them, and in the end, even Matthew sings along, because it's Christmas, and for a moment he forgets that he's actual shy and quiet by nature.

Berwald gets a pretty Christmas card showing the Berlin cathedral with snow on its cupola from Mathias, telling him that he and Lukas are well, and that they like it there and have made many new friends, and that he should absolutely come to visit them, soon.

Winter turns into wet, muddy spring in March, and Berwald helps Matilda to clear up the garden and to get it ready for the coming season.

"We should plant some roses," Matilda says. "When I was a girl, I always imagined I would be living in a house overgrown with roses, with a handsome prince at my side." She laughs. Berwald would rather die of embarrassment than tell her this, but if you exchange the prince for a princess, he thinks that he might be able to dream that dream, too.

Spring finally hits the garden with full force, spreading flowers everywhere, and then suddenly, he is standing in the lobby of the house where Viktor has his offices, fidgeting nervously. There's a young woman at the front desk, apparently Viktor's secretary.

"Hi," she says, chewing bubblegum. "My name's May. You must be Liz' kid."

Berwald looks at her curiously. So he's Liz' kid now? He supposes he might as well be, since she's sort of adopted him. Still, it sounds a bit odd to hear it from a stranger.

"Berwald, right? Can I call you Berry? It sounds nicer."

He glowers at her. No embarrassing nicknames. Not from Liz, and certainly not from this one.

She giggles. "Okay, then, Berwald. Viktor's out on business, but he'll be back in about half an hour or so. He's usually on time. Come along, I'll introduce you to the rest of the guys."

_The rest of the guys_ turn out to be Boris, Viktor's partner – partner as in business partner, May clarifies with a smirk and Boris rolls his eyes – and Sebastiaan, who's just joined their firm last year, Ludwig, who's actually an engineer, not an architect, and finally Brian, who's studying architecture and 'just helping out'. (More like, loafing around, because Viktor is friends with his Dad, or something, May tells Berwald later.)

They all seem nice enough. Apparently they know not to expect him to talk to them.

"It's a relief, actually," Ludwig says. "Between Sebastiaan and May, I'm hardly able to concentrate on my work, and Brian is just as bad."

"Oh come on, you stuffy old bore!" Sebastiaan complains. "You keep this up, and you'll turn into your father before you're thirty years old."

"As long as I don't turn into my brother, I should be alright," Ludwig replies. (It's an odd comment, but Berwald will come to understand it later on.)

Sebastiaan and Ludwig are actually the same age, but Ludwig seems ten years older. He has a stern face, bright blue eyes and is very tall, maybe even taller than Berwald. Berwald can tell that he takes his work seriously. Actually, Ludwig appears to take everything serious.

Viktor comes back soon after May has shown him around, and greets him cordially. Berwald gets to accompany him to one of the construction sites that afternoon and is fascinated by the way everything works. The next day, Viktor and Boris show him what they're currently working on.

Berwald can't really do much more for them but help with paperwork and make coffee, or run errands, but he enjoys himself anyway. Everybody is friendly and he thinks that he will learn quite a bit, just by listening.

He's a good listener.

"You might want to consider studying architecture," Viktor says, when his internship comes to an end. "I think you would enjoy it."

Berwald thinks so, too, but going to university would be a big step. He manages well enough in school, where everybody knows about his disability and more or less accepts it, but he doesn't think that the professors would bother to do so.

"Don't worry," Viktor says wryly, "Brian here will be the first one to tell you that it's entirely possible to get through university without saying a word. Most of the teachers are happy when you keep your mouth shut and don't bother them."

Brian nods. "Yeah, man, you should be able to pull it off. Isn't that hard. By the way, Arthur said to say hi."

Arthur? Berwald looks at him frowning.

"The guy with the eyebrows?" Brian grins. "You met him at one of Liz' parties, or so he says."

Yes, Berwald remembers that, but he wonders why Brian knows Arthur.

He writes that down for Brian, because he's really curious.

"Oh. So that's why you were looking at me so strangely. Yeah, I know him. Quite well, actually. He kinda raised me you know."

Berwald stares at him. Brian is definitely too old to be Arthur's son… or so he thinks.

"He's my big brother, duh." Brian says. "Behaves like he is my Dad, though, so it doesn't make much of a difference. When our parents died, he got custody of my sister and me. He's our half brother, actually, from Dad's first marriage. Anyway, Arthur says to say hi, and I suppose Alfred does to, but I didn't quite get that, because I don't understand sign language."

Huh. So Brian is related to Arthur, who's Viktor's friend, and who's also in a relationship with Alfred, who's Matthew's big brother. Everybody seems to be related somehow.

Viktor claps him on the shoulder. "Dizzying, I know. But we're all part of Lizzie's network. Congratulations, Berwald, you're now a part of it too: you have been lizyfied." He grins.

Berwald grins, too.

* * *

_And they keep getting longer... actually, the whole, unrevised document is 90 pages in word now, so you make expect quite a few more (long) chapters. Speaking of unrevised - this story is un-betaed, so I apologize for any mistakes and lapses you might encounter._

_Also, country names, volume 2:_  
_Alexis - Cyprus_  
_Brian - Australia_  
_Boris - Bulgaria_  
_Ian - Scotland_  
_Lilli - Liechtenstein_  
_Maria - Malta_  
_Sebastiaan - Netherlands_  
_Viktor - Romania_

_... did I forget anybody?_


	5. Take This Waltz

His internship is over, school has started again, and Berwald is faced with a terrible dilemma. There's a dance to be held at the end of the year, in honor of their graduation. Which means two things: One, he'll have to learn how to dance, which is a terrifying thought in itself, and two, he'll have to find a girl who's willing to dance with him, which – unless Berwald is much mistaken – should be damn near impossible.

He tells Liz about it, hanging his head dejectedly, and he is quite put out when she laughs at him.

_It's a tradition. One of the many pains of growing up_, she tells him. _And you'll survive it, because we all have, one way or other._

_But I don't want to! It's going to be embarrassing._

_Only if you make a fool of yourself._

_And I will_, Berwald predicts, scowling.

_No, you won't. I won't let that happen to you._ Liz looks at him, her dark eyes serious. _I'll teach you to dance._

_You dance? I thought you were a sign language teacher._

_I can teach you many things,_ Liz says, smiling wickedly, and Berwald forgets to breathe for a moment or two. _Seriously, I'll teach you. And Roderich will help._

Of course Roderich and Liz would know how to ballroom dance. He shouldn't be surprised, really. They can do everything. And they probably make the most attractive couple imaginable.

_Come by the house this Saturday, _Liz says. _And bring a pair of clean, comfortable shoes, because Roderich will have a fit if you wear street shoes in the ballroom._

They have a ballroom. Who has a ballroom in their house…?

* * *

Apparently, Liz and Roderich do, and it's huge.

It has a shiny parquet floor, and Berwald suddenly wonders if Roderich makes all of their guests change their shoes when they enter the room.

"Waltz," Roderich says, after looking at him thoughtfully for a moment. "We'll start with the most important and go from there."

"You only say that because you were born in Vienna," Liz teases him. "You wait. I'll teach him to dance a proper csárdás with me."

"Like you taught me?" He asks, smiling fondly.

"I will never forget that summer," Liz replies with a dreamy look in her eyes.

"Me neither. I almost killed Gilbert after he kissed you that night at the tavern."

Liz laughs and reaches out a hand to ruffle his hair. "Silly puppy. It was only one kiss, he was drunk, and I made him regret it by hitting him over the head with a beer stone. I felt a bit bad about that, though. He's actually a pretty good kisser."

"Oh?" Roderich asks, and his eyes narrow dangerously. "Anything you would like to tell me, Erzsébet?" He only uses her full name, her Hungarian name, not the one she later chose, when he's about to get angry, Berwald has noticed.

In this case, it's sort of silly, because Roderich has nothing to worry about. Liz worships the ground he walks on. She would never cheat on him.

Liz laughs even louder at that. "If you decide to be all prissy and jealous, I shall dance with Berwald instead," she tells him.

"Teach him the steps first," Roderich replies drily.

Dancing is terribly difficult, Berwald finds. He keeps falling over his feet and he feels like he's big, and clumsy and stupid. He'll never be able to move with that fluid, easy grace Liz and Roderich possess. They look like they're flying, like gravity is nothing to them.

Berwald watches them enviously, as they swirl around the dance floor, so beautiful, so graceful, such a perfect match. He wants to be able to do that, too, and most of all, he wants to have somebody to hold in his arms like Roderich holds Liz – like she's the most precious thing in the world.

You need two to tango, and Berwald suddenly feels lonely.

Liz, however, insists that he is making good progress. (Roderich looks a bit dubious at that.)

"Tell you what," she says, speaking aloud like she usually does around Roderich. "Arthur is hosting a party for Hayley next week… something like her coming out into society, that sort of stuff. He's very old fashioned. Anyway, he asked us all to come, and I'm sure he'd be glad to have you there, too. Most importantly, there's going to be dancing. And you could go there and dance to make Mattie feel better, because he insists that he will die of embarrassment."

Berwald thinks that he will probably die of embarrassment, too, and he doesn't see how that would help Matthew. But Liz is insistent, and in the end he grudgingly agrees to come. (He always does.)

Arthur's house is a splendid mansion overlooking one of the suburbs from a hill, and that night, it's full of lights and laughter, and people in evening gowns and dark suits. Liz and Roderich look dashing in a midnight blue dress and a suit to match.

"You should really not wear this," Berwald overhears Roderich telling her.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"It makes me want to skip the party and carry you off to the bedroom," Roderich replies in a low voice.

Liz leans in for a quick kiss. "We can still do that later, you know."

"Yes, but meanwhile, I'll have to look at you all evening, charming every man out of his wits. I shall be miserable tonight."

"No, you should be gloating. Because none of them can have me, and you can."

"True," Roderich admits, and then they are at the front door.

Arthur greets them cordially, shaking hands with Berwald, too, and looking genuinely pleased to see him. "You came. Good! Maybe you'll be able to talk Matthew out of committing suicide by champagne overdose."

"Alfred' s letting him drink?" Liz asks, frowning.

"We haven't figured out a way yet to make him stop without tying him up and gagging him," Arthur replies, shaking his head. "He's ridiculously nervous."

"Well, what do you expect, Artie? You're making him open the ball with the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood, and you know that he can barely look at her without blushing, let alone dance with her in front of all of those people."

"They're family," Arthur replies, shrugging. "It shouldn't be such a big deal."

"I can see that it's been a long time since you were sixteen," Roderich says.

"Hey!" Arthur complains. "I'm not that old, you know."

"Come on, Berwald, let's go and rescue Mattie from a nervous breakdown," Liz says, taking his hand.

* * *

They find Matthew near one of the buffet tables, white faced and fretting.

_I can't do this, Alfred. I can't. I can't!_ He's frantically telling his bemused looking brother. Antonio and Lovino are there, too, apparently trying very hard not to grin. (And failing, in Antonio's case.)

_But why not? Don't you like her? I think she's a very nice girl. And so pretty._

_That's my point! I'm terrified of her!_

_Pretty girls are very terrifying,_ Antonio agrees. Matthew shoots him a dirty look that clearly says: don't make fun of me, you jerk.

_Matthew, don't be silly, she's almost your sister._

_No, she's Arthur's sister_, Matthew insists.

_And Arthur is as good as your brother, since we are engaged, so stop denying it. Don't panic. Everything will be fine._

_Woah,_ Liz cuts in, _slow down there, Alfred, since when are you and Arthur engaged?_

Alfred looks very pleased with himself at that. _Last week._

_Awesome! Did you ask him?_

_Actually, he wrote it on my stomach, _Arthur, who has just stepped up to them, throws in, glowering at Alfred.

Liz laughs. _With chocolate sauce? I did that to Roderich once. He wouldn't speak to me for a week afterwards. Chocolate stains badly on satin sheets, and those were his favorite._

_No, with permanent ink. I had a hell of a time trying to wash it off._

_That is so romantic_, Antonio says, then eyes his boyfriend thoughtfully.

_Oh no, you won't! You absolutely won't!_ Lovino tells him, his eyes blazing. _I won't marry you, and if you ever write anything onto me, I will castrate you in your sleep. Idiot._

Liz, Antonio and Alfred laugh at that, and even Matthew is smiling a little.

_Tell you what_, Berwald says in a valiant attempt to help his friend out, _I'll dance if you do._

_Oh_, Matthew says, looking up in surprise. _Thank you. But that still doesn't change the fact that I don't want to and that I will make you pay for this, Alfred. You, too, Arthur!_

_Don't be such a baby_, Alfred replies, grinning. _It'll be fun!_

_For you, maybe._

* * *

Once Berwald meets Hayley, the belle of the ball, he understands Matthew's concern a little better. She looks like Cinderella at her first ball, all gentle smiles, and beautiful hair, and breathtaking figure. Her blue eyes sparkle with delight, and she doesn't seem to notice how nervous poor Matthew is, and how badly he's blushing.

She looks a lot like Brian, only with lighter hair and younger, and she really seems nice, but Berwald is secretly glad that he doesn't have to open the ball with her.

It's Lilli he will be dancing with, because yes, she's here, and she's seen him and would so love to dance with him and oh! Her dancing lessons will finally pay off and would he be so kind…?

He can't really deny her anything, she's so sweet.

On the other hand, she's also twelve years old, and he's towering over her. They make an odd couple and Alfred can't stop laughing, looking at them. Vash is watching them, too, his expression guarded. He's very protective of his little sister, but Berwald understands.

_Don't worry_, he signs behind Lilli's back, _I'll try not to step on her toes too often._

Vash actually smirks briefly at that.

The music starts, and Matthew looks as if he's about to faint, but Hayley is pulling him towards the middle of the dance floor mercilessly.

Let's do this, then, Berwald thinks grimly, trying to remember what Liz and Roderich have taught him. Trying to forget that there's a crowd of people watching.

He makes it through the first minute or so without any major mishaps. Sure, it's not flawless, and it doesn't look nearly as elegant as it should, but at least neither he nor Lilli break a leg. Matthew, looking decidedly nauseous, is valiantly attempting to make a good figure with Hayley, who's all flirtatious smiles and graceful movements.

There's some clapping, then Hayley gives a wave, inviting others to join, and Liz and Roderich do so, and another couple, and another. Berwald sees Arthur and Alfred, waltzing as if it were completely normal for two men to do so. (And maybe it is?)

Lovino apparently refuses to dance, since Antonio is there with a woman Berwald doesn't recognize.

Brian swirls past, a gorgeous redhead on his arm, grinning cheekily.

Lilli is smiling up at him as if trying to say 'see, it isn't all that bad'. Berwald attempts to smile back, then has to concentrate on his feet again, and on not hitting another couple. He looks up, trying to see if the path is clear, and then it happens.

Behind Lilli's back, there's another couple, a young man and a girl, but Berwald barely notices the girl, all he sees is her partner's face, he's looking straight at him, only for a moment, but it's enough.

The phrase 'struck by lightning' gets a whole new meaning, all of a sudden.

Berwald doesn't move, doesn't breathe, forgets where he is, forgets all about Lilli, and the ball, and the other dancers. All he sees is him.

_Him._

He's slender and almost petite. (At least compared to Berwald himself.) His hair is blond, shiny, it looks like satin. He looks at Berwald for a brief moment, his pale skin slightly flushed – his cheeks have a rosy glow, his lips are full, curving, red. His eyes are dark under long lashes, Berwald can't quite get their color. He smiles distractedly, the way you smile at somebody who is just passing you, a friendly smile, an untroubled smile, the most beautiful smile Berwald has ever seen.

Berwald holds his breath. His heart skips a beat, two, three.

He has no idea what is happening to him, but knows that whatever it is, he can't stop it.

"Hey!" Somebody calls, "watch out!" And he comes back to reality with a jolt, but it's too late, he stumbles over his feet and over Lilli, they fall, they take the other couple down with them, because they are too close. Lilli gives a surprised little shriek, and the other girl hisses a curse. They all land on the floor in a heap of tangled fabric and limbs, and suddenly, Berwald is looking down into the eyes of the other young man.

And oh God, this can't be happening to him.

No. Because stuff like that only happens in books and in movies, and it's not supposed to be happening for real, and…

"Here." Somebody lends him a hand, helping him up, and Berwald realizes that it's Roderich. "Don't worry," he whispers, "it happens. You're still learning. Nobody will laugh at you."

It's nice of him to say that, but Berwald has other things on his mind.

Lilli looks mortified, but tries to hide it. _Are you hurt?_ She asks.

_No. Are you?_

She shakes her head.

"Um," she says, and he can see how hard she's trying to get the words right. "Sorry about that." She looks at the other man. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Her speech is slow, halting. Not that easy to understand, especially in a room full of people.

"Oh… me? No, it's okay. Don't worry." He smiles at her indulgently.

That smile. You should bottle it and sell it as a drug.

"Lilli," she says, pointing at herself.

"I'm Tino." He looks up at Berwald, who is unsure whether to die of embarrassment or live on only to see that smile again. "And who are you?"

Never in his life has Berwald wanted to speak more than in that moment. But he can't. The words form in his mind, words of apology, words of introduction, of concern, but they won't come out. He can only look at Tino, helplessly, confusedly.

"Berwald doesn't speak," Lilli explains.

"Oh!" Tino says, now looking embarrassed himself. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… I mean… uh…" He seems at a loss for words.

Berwald looks at Roderich pleadingly. _Tell him that I am terribly sorry for making him stumble_, he asks. _And that I hope he isn't hurt._

And that he's the most perfect creature I have ever seen and that I would die happily if I could only see that smile directed at me again…

Roderich nods and conveys his apologies to Tino, who shakes his head. "No, really. It's alright. Uh… we should probably move out of the way…?"

They should, because they are still on the dance floor. Berwald follows Roderich, and Vash comes and takes Lilli's arm, asking her if she's okay, and when he turns around, Tino is gone like a vision.

_You look shaken_, Liz notes, when they join her and Francis at one of the tables.

"He had a little accident," Roderich explains.

It's a bit of an understatement, really. Berwald didn't have an accident.

He had an epiphany.

* * *

Berwald spends the rest of the evening getting drunk on champagne with Matthew, and the entirety of the next day curing his hangover and feeling sorry for himself. Matilda comes in around noon to see how he's doing, and because she's curious to hear about his first ball. (Did you like it? Did you dance? Did you meet a nice girl?)

Berwald just groans and hides his head beneath his pillow.

Monday's a school day and he has his art class in the afternoon, and on Tuesday he has to help Matilda with the plants she has ordered from the nursery; so he doesn't get to see Liz and the kids before Wednesday, which is probably a good thing. By then, the ball, the accident, the meeting with Tino, the hangover has all sort of run together and gotten hazy, and Berwald is determined to keep it at that if he possibly can.

He meets Lilli, who assures him that really, she doesn't blame him and that it was actually kind of fun, then runs off to skip rope with Maria in the garden before her piano lesson with Roderich. Little Alexis attaches himself to Berwald's leg like an octopus, and it takes all of fifteen minutes and Sadiq making the most hideous faces at him to get him off again. Afterwards, Berwald has to break up yet another argument between Sadiq and Herakles, who's upset because nobody gets to scare his little brother but him!

He finally meets Matthew sitting quietly in the library, his chin resting on his crossed arms on top of the table. He's still looking worn out and dejected.

_How are you?_ Berwald asks cautiously.

_Oh, brilliant_, Matthew replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes. _I am so dead. And I will murder Alfred and Arthur for doing that to me. I'll sneak up to their bedroom at night and smother them with a pillow._

_Sounds like a plan_, Berwald comments, trying to imagine that scene and failing, because Matthew couldn't harm a fly, and much less his beloved big brother.

_Yes, except that it wouldn't work, because they don't do much sleeping in there and I really don't want to walk in on them. Not again._

_Oops._

_You could say that. Worst day of my life. Well, until last Saturday, that is._

_Hey, at least you didn't make a fool of yourself and almost crush your partner_, Berwald tries to comfort him.

_True, _Matthew admits. _Instead, I made a fool of myself stepping on Hayley's adorable toes and blushing redder than Lovino when he's really mad every time she spoke to me._

_That bad?_

_Worse._ Matthew groans. _Let's just dig ourselves a grave and get buried, shall we?_

"Hey boys!" Liz chimes brightly from the door.

Berwald and Matthew look up, and there she is, wearing jeans and a tight-fitting black shirt, lovely and wonderful as ever.

_Liz, shoot me. Please_, Matthew signs.

_Alright, honey. I'll ask Vash if I can borrow one of his revolvers_, she replies cheerfully. _And shall I shoot you, too, Berwald?_

_No, I think I haven't quite reached that point yet_, he replies. _Thanks for offering, though. I'll consider it._

_Okay, you two, now stop whining and feeling sorry for yourselves and get your asses up_, Liz tells them. _I want to go and get ice cream for everybody, because I really, really need something sweet right now. Roderich's in a foul mood and he's been driving me up the wall for days now._

_What's the matter? _Matthew asks, looking somewhat alarmed. Sure, Liz and Roderich argue on occasion, all couples do, but usually it's her temper that flares, and he bears it with astounding patience.

_Big competition coming up_, she replies, looking exasperated. _He's playing Mozart and fretting, because there are some new competitors in the field, and he can't quite tell how good they are. So he worries, and worries and worries, and he is driving me nuts. I've told him that I'll murder him with my bare hands if I have to listen to another one of his rants. Hell, I've even threatened to run away with Francis, but he doesn't seem too concerned about that. Not as concerned as he is about that stupid competition, that is. _She's looking at them, her dark eyes fierce. _I could totally pull it off, you know._

Matthew chuckles softly. _No, you couldn't. You would murder Francis before you ever got to the airport._

_And you love Roderich_, Berwald adds.

_Right now, I hate him_, Liz replies, her expression boding ill for her husband.

Maybe we should warn him, Berwald thinks. There's only so much Liz can take. On the other hand, Roderich has been married to her since she turned eighteen, which is almost ten years now (their anniversary, which is also her birthday, is coming up in August, Feliciano has told him). He should know her well enough by now.

_Let's go get that ice cream_, he suggests diplomatically.

* * *

_Ta-da, and finally, Tino has made his first appearance. I do believe in love at first sight, by the way. It's probably quite rare, but I'm convinced it happens occasionally - with the usual, dreadful consequences (that may also be very funny to observe for those not directly involved)._

_As for country names, I seem to have forgotten  
May - Taiwan and  
Hayley - New Zealand._

_By the way, there's a lot of dialogue in this chapter and I'm well aware of the fact that you couldn't possibly transcribe it word by word like that from sign language, what with all the contractions and colloquialisms. However, since most forms of human communication depend very much on facial expressions and body language, which cannot be transcribed, I had to compromise and cut back on acuracy for the sake of readability. I hope you don't mind._


	6. Ain't No Cure For Love

The final exams are drawing nearer, and Berwald spends a lot of time in the library room at the center, studying. Matthew still hasn't entirely recovered from his Hayley-induced fit and is dreading the wedding, because he fears that his brother and Arthur are going to make him dance again.

_When is it?_ Berwald asks.

_Autumn. End of October or beginning of November._

_Then you really shouldn't worry about it now_, Berwald tells him.

Matthew sighs. _It'll ruin my entire summer. But I can't help it. Every time I meet Hayley, she gets that look. You know, THAT look?_

Berwald doesn't, but he nods anyway.

_Girls_, Matthew says, rolling his eyes, _I don't understand them._

_Me, neither_, Berwald admits. Not even Liz, on occasion. She appears to have made up with Roderich, or maybe she's just gritting her teeth, eating lots of ice cream and waiting to explode.

_So, is there any girl you like?_ Matthew asks casually, probably to avoid having to discuss Hayley any longer.

Berwald's thoughts immediately fly to an attractive face, silky blond hair, the most beautiful smile in the world. And he mentally smacks himself, because it's so stupid. He hasn't seen Tino since that incident and isn't likely to ever see him again. And besides, he's not even into guys.

_Not really_, he replies.

Matthew shrugs. _Well, we can't all marry Liz, can we?_

Too true, Berwald thinks. Roderich must be the luckiest man in the world, and he really hopes he appreciates that.

_Speaking of Liz, has she invited you to come to that competition, too?_

Berwald nods. _I'm not sure if I want to go, though, _he says. _There's going to be drama if Roderich doesn't win. Liz is likely to murder the jury if he doesn't._

Matthew grins. _True. But don't worry. Roderich has never lost a competition, not since I've known him. He really is the best._

_Then why is he fretting?_ And nearly driving poor Liz to enraged tears?

_It's called nerves. We all get them. Roderich has his competitions, I have Hayley and you… well, you never freak out. Huh. That's odd, actually. You're too complacent, Berwald. One day, you'll get hit by something big, and then we had all better watch out._

_Not likely_, Berwald says. And he's so not thinking about lightning striking him on the dance floor at the sight of Tino's face.

* * *

Liz makes them all dress up for the competition, even though they are just going to sit in the audience, and she's so sweet to Roderich all day long that it's probably going to give him caries. She helps him dress, and they stay upstairs for what feels like forever, and Berwald really doesn't need to know or imagine what they're doing there.

When they finally come downstairs, Roderich wears a perfectly fitted suit and Liz is stunning in her green dress.

"Your wife should come with a warning sign, Roderich," Arthur says, smiling fondly. "I have never been attracted to women, but she could make me doubt my own convictions with a smile and a wink. And whom did you kill to get that dress to fit you like this, Liz?"

Liz grins. "Nobody. But I had to flirt with Francis in a way that was bordering on sexual harassment. It's his creation."

Arthur snorts. "You can't harass Francis. He'd enjoy every last minute of it."

"Speaking from past experience, Artie?"

"Don't remind me," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Is he coming to the wedding?" Liz teases.

"Well you see, I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I really don't need my bratty, annoying, overbearing ex-boyfriend at my wedding, but if I don't invite him, he'll take his revenge. And I'm terrified of what Francis could do if he decided to get mean. He's got enough blackmail material to make my life hell for the next two or three decades."

Liz laughs at that, but Berwald is stunned. _Francis_ is Arthur's ex-boyfriend? _Francis?_ Their tempers clash horribly and they can't have a normal conversation without getting into an argument that usually ends with one or both of them screaming insults and/or cursing the other.

"Francis has enough blackmail material on all of us to make us miserable," Roderich says absentmindedly, then he checks his watch. "Liza, my love, we need to leave."

"Alright, let's do this," Liz says, taking his arm and smiling a little too brightly.

They step outside and to the cars. Arthur is driving Liz, Roderich and Alfred; Berwald is riding with Antonio, Lovino and Matthew. _Is Feliciano not coming?_ he asks them.

"No, he's got to work. Big conference or something, he's translating," Antonio says, and pushes his lover out of the way. "You are _not_ driving, mi vida. I want to get there _alive_."

Lovino scowls. The expression on his face tells Antonio and everybody else exactly what he thinks about comments on his driving. Antonio leans in for a quick kiss (which Lovino accepts, before slapping him in the face), then firmly pushes Lovino towards the other side of the car.

Antonio's driving style is risky, but not nearly as lethal as Lovino's, and it gets them to the concert hall a good ten minutes before the others arrive. Roderich gets out of the car, lends Liz a hand and looks more confident now than he has for days.

Well, good, Berwald thinks.

They step inside and meet with Lilli and Vash, Yao, Kiku and Ian and – to Berwald's surprise and delight Viktor and Ludwig. The former jovially greets him, clapping his shoulder and asking him how he's doing, then Alfred joins them, out of breath looking as if he's ran all the way to the hall.

_Didn't think I would make it_, he explains, _practice was taking forever today._

_Where are your brother and sister?_ Berwald asks Arthur.

"Visiting their maternal grandmother, it's her eightieth birthday today. They said to say good luck, by the way, Roderich."

Roderich nods stiffly. "Excuse me," he says. "I had better go backstage now."

Liz steps close to kiss him and he holds her for a moment, takes a deep breath, then squares his shoulders and walks away.

"Oh dear," Liz mutters, "Sometimes I wish he were a little more like Gilbert."

"No you don't," Ludwig says bluntly and suddenly. "Roderich is a charming, intelligent, gentle man. My brother is an arrogant egomaniac and borderline insane. Trust me. I've had to live with him for fifteen years."

So here's the connection between Liz and Ludwig that Berwald has been looking for: Ludwig has a brother, Gilbert, who knows Liz and Roderich. He's… well, what is he to Liz? A former lover? A friend? Roderich loathes him, that much is obvious.

"True," Liz says, "But he's got guts. He'd walk into this with that horrible grin on his face and his usual fuck-y'all attitude. Roderich, on the other hand, is on the brink of a nervous breakdown right now."

"Which is why it's a good thing that this is a piano contest, and way out of Gilbert's league. I do not want a repeat performance of that incident in Vienna when you almost drowned him in the fountain for reducing Roderich to the point of tears right before an important audition." Ludwig looks as if it's anything but a fond memory.

"That was over thirteen years ago," Liz says. "I was fourteen."

"And he probably deserved it, but it was December and he caught pneumonia and almost died after that. Which is why I prefer to keep Gilbert as far away from the two of you as I possibly can. You're not compatible."

"Well, he's someplace in Africa, isn't he?" Liz asks, shrugging. "Last thing I heard, anyway."

"No, he's back in Berlin. Caught Malaria and they sent him home to recover."

"Oh. Is he better now?"

Ludwig shrugs. "You know my brother. He's indestructible."

"Yes, I've put that theory to the test on several occasions. Such fond memories." Her smile is feral. "One day, I'd probably have ended up killing him for real."

"Which is why it's good that he isn't here now," Ludwig says complacently and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

"Still the ambassador's kid, huh Ludwig?" She teases him.

"Don't remind me."

* * *

Berwald sits between Lilli and Matthew and thoroughly enjoys himself, up to the point where everything suddenly goes wrong. The first three competitors are good, but even he can see that they aren't nearly as good as Roderich. Then there's a brief intermission, during which Francis joins them, and gets slapped after catching Liz in an embrace and kissing her soundly on the mouth.

_Couldn't resist. You look lovely._ He's grinning. Liz rolls her eyes.

_Shall I kiss you, too, Arthur?_ Francis asks, winking at his former boyfriend and reaching out for him.

"Get your hands off me, Frog!" Arthur exclaims, and Alfred steps in front of him, crossing his arms and staring down at Francis, who backs off, still grinning.

Then Roderich comes on stage, and they can all see that there's something wrong with him. His face is flushed, and he looks angry, his fists clenched tightly.

"Damn, I wonder what happened back there," Liz softly curses. "I should have gone with him."

"He'll be fine, Lizzie," Arthur says soothingly, patting her arm.

"_Verdammt!_" Ludwig suddenly curses in German. "We should not have spoken of him, Liz. It's like in that one poem of Goethe's – _die ich rief die Geister, werd ich nun nicht los._"

„What are you talking about?" Liz hisses, frowning.

"Look!" Ludwig says, pointing. "He's _here_."

They all follow his gaze and Berwald catches sight of a lanky, pale man with silverish-blond hair wearing what looks like combat boots and a leather jacket and leaning against a pillar at the front of the hall, near the stage.

"_Gilbert!_" Liz hisses, and it sounds as if she's seen the devil himself. "Oh God, I'll murder him. I'll fucking murder him if he messes with Roderich's performance!"

"Should I offer you my gun?" Vash asks, staring at the stranger with blatant disgust.

"Are you carrying one? But no, I'll do it with my bare hands."

"Shush," Arthur says, "Roderich is about to play."

And at first it looks as if everything is going alright, because Roderich plays like he always does; completely absorbed, with passion, fervor, abandon. Maybe it's a bit more forceful than usual, maybe his shoulders are a bit tenser, but it looks as if he's going to make it. And then suddenly, a tremor runs through his body, and his fingers miss a chord, and another one. He catches himself again, but it's too late. He's unconfident and upset now, and the audience, as well as the jury notice it.

Liz looks as if she's about to break into tears, and from the way Ludwig is watching her, he's expecting her to fly at his brother with outstretched claws and bared teeth any moment now.

"What has he done?" Liz hisses. "God, what did he do to him?"

Roderich finishes his performance and gets up shakily. His face is white. He almost runs off the stage, and there's no force in the world that will keep Liz in her seat now, not even Arthur and Alfred, who are trying to restrain her.

"You get Gilbert, I'll go with Liz to see Roderich," Vash says to Ludwig, who nods curtly.

Berwald looks at Matthew confusedly, but Matthew is just as confused. "Arthur?" He asks timidly.

Arthur sighs and rubs his temple. "It's complicated," he says after a moment's hesitation. "Ludwig, Gilbert, Liz and Roderich all grew up together. Vash, too, he's Ludwig's and Gilbert's cousin. Their father was the German ambassador to Vienna for a few years, and he retired and stayed there afterwards, because his wife is Austrian. Gilbert and Roderich are the same age, and then comes Liz, Ludwig is the youngest. And Gilbert and Roderich are not what you'd call childhood friends. Gilbert's a bully, with a lot of anger welled up inside him, and he took it out on Roderich all the time. From what Liz has told me, they were forever fighting, and usually, Roderich was losing those fights. Well, and as they got older, Roderich and Liz fell in love, and Gilbert doubled his efforts. Maybe he had a crush on Liz, too, or maybe he was just being mean and spiteful, but it went downhill from there."

"Oh," Matthew says, as they watch Ludwig approach his brother. He looks angry. Well, as angry as stoic, composed Ludwig ever gets.

_Why would he do something like that?_ Berwald asks, or rather, he hopes that that is what he's asking, because he's still having trouble with the finer points of expressing himself in sign language, especially when he is upset.

Arthur seems to understand, though. "I don't know. For the fun of it, maybe."

"Look, there's Eduard," Matthew says, as the next contestant steps onstage. "I didn't know he was playing."

Eduard sits down at the piano, and they all fall silent to hear him play, but Berwald can't concentrate on the performance. He is upset, he worries about Roderich, and Liz, and there's something uncanny about that pale stranger and his sudden appearance out of nowhere.

Gilbert is a bully, Arthur has said, and suddenly, Berwald is reminded of Ivan. He hasn't thought about Ivan in a long time, and that should be a good sign. He was so busy with school and his internship, with his new friends, learning to dance, the ball, the accident…

But now the memories are back, and Berwald swallows hard. No, he tries to tell himself, you have moved on. You're beyond that now. You have a place in life, and friends who are almost like a family now, and it's unlikely that you'll ever see Ivan again.

And even if he did… by now he's probably bigger than Ivan, and bullies usually pick on those who are smaller than them, because in their hearts, they are cowards. Or that's what Matilda and Liz keep telling him. Ivan never seemed like a coward to him, though. He's just one mean, cruel, dangerous bastard.

Berwald misses most of Eduard's performance, and when the jury withdraws to decide whom to name as the winner, he follows the others to go and see Liz and Roderich. They find them, sitting on a bench, and Liz has her arms around her husband, who is nearly shivering with helpless rage. Vash is standing near them, looking uneasy.

"Your student just gave a very nice performance," Arthur says in an attempt to cheer Roderich up. "He really does you credit."

But Roderich ignores the compliment. Maybe he doesn't care. If Berwald knows anything about Roderich, it's that there are two absolutes in his life – his music and his love for Liz. Failure is inacceptable to him, especially failure in front of a large audience. If Roderich has one flaw, it is vanity.

"Let's go home," Liz suggests, stroking a hand through his hair, but Roderich shakes his head.

"No. I need to know."

Liz sighs, kisses the top of his head and murmurs soft, unintelligible words in what is probably her native tongue. "You will only hurt yourself by staying, love," she then says. "It's no use."

But Roderich remains adamant. Twenty minutes later, the jury names the winner of the competition: it is Eduard. Roderich looks as if he is about to get sick.

* * *

Roderich does indeed get sick, or so Liz tells Berwald a couple of days later, when she cancels their lesson, using instant messenger from her laptop at home.

_I can't leave him alone. He's in a very dark place right now,_ she writes. Berwald misses the smilie faces that usually clutter her messages.

_Is it really that bad? He has lost before, hasn't he? And he will win the next one, I'm sure._

_He hasn't lost a major competition since he was twelve years old_, Liz replies.

Oh. Well, apparently Roderich is some sort of modern day Mozart. But even Mozart made mistakes, didn't he?

_Eduard won, though. And he is Roderich's student. Shouldn't he be happy about that? I mean, that's a good thing, right?_

A brief pause, then Liz replies: _Not at his age. He is thirty-two years old. That's too young to get surpassed by your own students. _Another pause, then: _He started this when he was very young. Played the piano before he could properly speak, or so his mother says. And he has always been terribly ambitious. He'd stay up days and nights, practicing when he was a boy. Not drinking, not eating. He was obsessed. I know, because from my bedroom window, I could look into his music room. I used to sit at that window and listen to him play…_

Berwald imagines that scene. A moonlit summer night, all of Vienna is sleeping, except for Liz, who is sitting by the window in her nightgown, listening to the boy next door play the piano. It's a romantic picture. She probably fell in love with him back then.

_Is there anything I could do?_

_You can come by and keep us company. I'll do your lesson here, if you'd like. The house is quite a dreary place without music in it._

_Five o'clock_? Berwald asks.

_Yes. Stay for dinner afterwards. Arthur and Alfred are coming and they are bringing Matthew. I need friends to keep me company while Puppy is in his black place. Oh, and do you think you could stop by Antonio's and Lovino's to get the tiramisu Lovi promised me? We're having that for dessert._

_Sure._

Liz is right, Berwald thinks when Lola opens the door for him and leads him into the house without the usual smile on her friendly round face. The house really is a dreary place without music in it. The atmosphere is hushed, subdued, and Liz has dark shadows lining her eyes when she greets him.

Berwald hands the dessert to Lola, then follows Liz to the living room.

"He's upstairs, asleep," Liz says softly, "so we need to be quiet, but that shouldn't be a problem, should it?" Her smile is shaky.

In a sudden impulse, Berwald takes her hand and squeezes it. Liz squeezes back.

"You're a darling, Berwald, you know that? Now, where did we stop last time? Oh, yes, I thought we should do some vocabulary work. Your progress is amazing, but I notice that you're still having difficulty with topics that aren't discussed that frequently, because you don't know to express what you want so say. So…"

Half an hour later, Berwald is trying to express his opinion on the performance of the national soccer team at its last game, and Liz looks pleased, even though she corrects him often. Then they are both startled by the doorbell. They hear Lola leave the kitchen to open it, and Liz gets up.

_Arthur, I think. He is always early._

But when Lola shows the visitor into the room, they both notice with dismay that it is _not_ Arthur.

"Gilbert!" Liz hisses, giving the impression of a cat that has just rounded a corner and met the neighbor's dog there. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Dearest Lizzie, what a wonderful warm welcome!" The man replies, grinning like a maniac. Berwald now realizes why he seemed so ghastly pale in the dim light of the concert hall the other night – he's an albino. His appearance is quite startling, in fact, especially his eyes. They seem _red_; but normally humans don't have red eyes, do they? Berwald has once seen a white rabbit that had red eyes. It looked rather cute. Gilbert does not.

Berwald also wonders why he's speaking Swedish instead of German, which should be his first language, unless he is very much mistaken. He has an accent, but he is fluent enough in the language, which is quite odd for somebody who grew up in Vienna and was born to German-Austrian parents. Besides, Liz understands German, doesn't she? On the other hand, she and Roderich always speak Swedish, if anything, she'll throw in a Hungarian word or two, but he's never actually heard her say something in German, which is odd enough.

"Give me one reason, one goddamn reason not to wrap my hands around your throat and strangle you…?" Liz is staring at him, hands on her hips.

"Um…" Gilbert scratches his chin, as if he's seriously considering this. "You tried that before and it didn't work…? Come on, Lizzie, say that you're pleased to see me. I haven't seen you in years. I missed you."

"I didn't. I was rather hoping you'd catch some exotic disease in Africa and die there. Or that you'd get eaten by a lion."

Gilbert laughs. It's a wild sound, disturbing and not quite sane. "Sorry, no such luck. I caught malaria, though. It was nasty."

To Berwald's amazement, Liz' enraged expression softens a little. "Ludwig told me. Are you better?"

He shrugs. "As healthy as I'll ever be. Doctors said it might come back. Told me I should stay in Europe for the time being and maybe look for a less life-threatening profession."

"Well, it's your own fault," Liz says spitefully, "no one ever told you to become a mercenary and help African dictators oppress and butcher their own peoples, or whatever it is you're doing down there."

"I'm not a mercenary, I own a private security company, Liz."

"Same difference. You kill people for a living."

"No, I make my living preventing people from getting killed. Though I sometimes kill a few others in the process. Can't be helped. They'd probably thank me, too; I'm turning them into martyrs for whatever ludicrous cause they're fighting for. One should never fight for one's ideals, they always get lost along the way. Money's a much worthier cause."

"You make me sick," Liz spits out at him. "Go away, Gilbert. Nobody wants you here."

"That's what you told me time and time again, and I know it's not true. You don't hate me as much as you'd like to pretend, Lizzie. Not nearly as much." He smiles at her, and it's a strange smile, bitter, yet fond and full of melancholy regret. He reaches out a hand to brush a strand of dark hair from her face, and Liz doesn't shrink back from the touch. They are staring at each other, dark eyes and red locked in a gaze that is full of memories, full of hatred and regrets, and lost chances.

And Berwald realizes that what Liz and Gilbert have is something of a love-hate relationship, something like Arthur's and Francis' relationship. Only that between Arthur and Francis, it's made up of equal parts of love and hatred, while between Liz and Gilbert, it's ninety percent hatred and ten percent love, at least on her side. The ratios might be different from his point of view. He does seem to care about her, at least.

"Who's the boy?" Gilbert asks, negligently pointing at Berwald.

"One of my students. You interrupted our lesson." Liz glowers at him.

"Aw, I'm sorry." He doesn't look sorry at all. "I've always had such terrible timing, haven't I?"

"What were you doing at the concert the other night, Gilbert?" Liz asks in a dangerously calm tone of voice.

"I was watching Roddy play. I was in town anyway; I wanted to pay my little brother a visit. And I saw the announcement in the paper, so I thought I'd stop by and see if how you're all doing. I knew you would be there. Besides, I've always had a soft spot for Roddy's music. Can't say the same about him, but who cares?"

"I do," Liz says.

"Yeah, I know. You always wanted us to be friends."

"No, I always wanted you to leave him alone and to stop tormenting him. Shows how much you care about my wishes. You don't give a damn, Gilbert, do you? You don't give a damn that you've ruined that competition for him, that once again, you have burst into our lives, sowing misery and discord in your wake, ruining _everything_. And I don't even want to know what you said to him backstage, right before it was his turn to play, but I swear to you, if you ever do something like that again, nothing will stop me from carving your heart out with a spoon."

"You once told me I had no heart," Gilbert reminds her softly, sounding amused.

"I'll take your kidneys instead," Liz replies, smiling with bared teeth, "Should be just as painful."

"Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie. You are such a treasure. Always standing up for him, always fighting. What did he do to deserve such _loyalty_?" There's heavy irony in his words.

"I'm not going to discuss that with you, you wouldn't understand anyway. Just get out of my house, you bastard. Out of my house, out of my sight and out of my life. And don't insult my husband, because he's twice the man that you could ever be."

"I rather doubt that," Gilbert says drily. "Don't forget that you aren't the only one of us who knows the other two _intimately_, Lizzie. I've seen Roddy naked, too, and he's really not that impressive without his clothes."

"Out, Gilbert!" It's almost a scream, and her hand is stretched out, as if to push him away. "Out."

He shrugs, and turns on his heel, walking towards the door. Liz is following him slowly, suspiciously, and Berwald is following her to… well, what? Protect her? Maybe.

"_Auf Wiedersehen_, Lizzie," Gilbert says with a lopsided grin.

"Hopefully not," she counters, watching him cross the patio. When he's just about to descend the short flight of steps, she calls out: "Gilbert. Why do you keep coming back?"

He turns halfway, throwing her another wry smile. "Why, Lizzie… there ain't no cure for love." And then he laughs, a bitter, hateful laugh, turning his back on her and leaving.


End file.
